Protective Reasoning
by Dogstar-Black
Summary: Bruce always knew that eventually, General Ross would find him again. Considering he was now an Avenger living in the not at all inconspicuous Stark Tower, it would probably be sooner rather than later. He just didn't expect the reactions of his new teammates to be so strong.* No longer a one-shot*, no shipping, but a lot of team friendship. Rating for Tony and Clint's mouths.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! First off I'd like to welcome you to my first try at Avengers fanfiction. This is currently just a one-shot, but may be continued, depending on the reaction I get from reviews. Please be advised that this is currently un-betaed, but I did try to catch any spelling or grammatical errors I could.**

**I'd also like to add that I've never actually seen any of the Hulk movies, so my General Ross may be a little out of character in comparison to the one in the movie. This is just how I'd imagine him acting in this situation. **  
**This story takes place roughly five months after Loki is taken back to Asgard, and assume that everyone has moved into Stark Tower.**

**I do appreciate _constructive_ criticism, so fell free to add anything you see into a review.**

**I do not own anything you recognize from the Marvel Universe or the Avengers. Which is basically everything. I own nothing.**

* * *

Steve looked up from his book when his door was thrown open. There was only one person in the tower that had a complete lack of respect for personal privacy, and that would be Tony Stark.

"Steve, I need you to talk to a general for me." the billionaire said shortly, poking his head into the room.

The Captain snorted but set his book aside.

"Tony, I don't talk to generals. I take orders from them." he said, tone amused, but Tony just scowled.

"Yeah, well, you need to talk to this one. It's General Ross. He's a couple floors down, and he won't take the 'fuck off' from me." Tony explained, his expression actually worried, which instantly put Steve on edge.

If he remembered correctly from the files he'd been given on his team, General Ross was the man that had dealt with Banner when he had broke Harlem as he put it.

"What does he want?" the Captain asked quickly, leaning forward and meeting Tony's gaze.

"He's torn between dead Bruce and dissected Bruce." Stark growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "The bastard practically idolizes you, Steve. I can't make him go away, you might be able to."

Steve stood quickly, sure his expression was disgusted. How could a general in the Army want to get at Bruce so badly that he waited years?

"Show me where." he said firmly and Tony let out a huff of relief. "Does Bruce know?"

"God no." Tony snorted. "He'd probably do something stupid like run off. He won't say it, but he's terrified of that bastard."

Steve sighed and nodded, following Tony's quick footsteps into the elevator.

"What exactly have you been talking about?" he asked as they rode down at least twenty floors.

"He wants Bruce turned over to Army custody, because he's a 'danger to the city'. He's lived here five months, and nothing's happened. SHIELD just couldn't keep him off our backs anymore, seeing as he threatened to bring tanks to my front door. Fury figured I'd be able to steer him off, but it's proving harder than expected. If you don't work, I'm having Thor fling him over the Rainbow Bridge." Tony said and Steve snorted.

The billionaire had taken to throwing the Rainbow Bridge into conversation when he wanted something or someone to go away and not come back.

They stepped off he elevator then, into one of the floors of the tower dedicated to Stark Industries meetings. Tony stopped outside one of the conference room doors, and turned to him.

"Look, I'm going to go up to the lab, keep Bruce out of things. I don't care what you have to do, what you have to say, what you have to show him. Get him to leave Banner alone."

The intensity of protectiveness in Tony's eyes wasn't surprising to Steve. They were all protective of the doctor.

The Captain pulled himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders before he turned the knob to open the door.

The uniformed General was seated at the head of the long table inside the room, watching a news broadcast on the TV with what seemed to be muted interest.

"General Ross?" he questioned politely, watching as the older man turned to look at him, eyes widening in shock when he was recognized. "Good afternoon. I'm Steve Rodgers." he offered his hand, hiding a slight scowl when the man jumped to his feet to accept his hand.

"Captain, it's an honor." he said in a rush, eyes brightened in awe.

"Thank you, really." Steve said, his tone actually sincere. It still humbled him to see people who looked up to him, even 70 years after his work in the war. "Mr. Stark said we were having a bit of an issue."

Something told him he shouldn't seem close to Tony right off the bat. They certainly didn't seem to get along.

"Um, yes, sir." the General said, and Steve couldn't help by hide a slight smile. If the man respected him enough to call him 'sir', even though he hadn't been in the military in 70 years, and only a Captain at that, this might go better than expected. "I've been dealing with Dr. Banner's presence in the city since his first incident. The beast is dangerous, and needs to be put down. Or contained at the very least. Mr. Stark refuses to submit him peacefully to my custody."

Steve felt his jaw clench.

"All due respect, sir, but Mr. Stark isn't exactly in charge of Dr. Banner, if that's the impression you were under." he said, his tone growing slightly shorter.

Ross tilted his head in confusion, so Steve elaborated, taking one of the comfortable seats at the table.

"Dr. Banner can come and go as he pleases. I'm sure you've been briefed by SHIELD."

Ross snorted angrily, taking his former seat.

"Those assholes? They've been giving me the run around for years. They won't let me do my job. They're letting him run around, and people are going to get hurt."

"General, I'm going to be frank with you." Steve said, waiting for the man to nod, slightly surprised. "I've been living with Bruce for months now. The man is imany things, but I can't say dangerous is one of them. He's one of the most cautious, most controlled men I have ever met."

Ross gaped at him for a few moments, before speaking clearly flustered.

"That thing is a beast, Captain, pretending to be a man." the General said. "You didn't see the last time that green monster was in the city. People died. It can't be controlled, it can't be used for anything less than complete destruction."

Steve stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly, something Ross noticed and became unsettled by.

"You don't know him. You haven't spent any time with him in which you weren't trying to kill him. I have seen the footage, general, I've spoken to Bruce about it. The last time, in fact, that the Hulk was loose in New York, he fought an alien army with us, helped us save millions of lives." Steve said, his voice raising only ever so slightly.

"It's hardly something that can be counted on or controlled." Ross said hotly, but Steve cut him off.

"The Hulk takes my orders without problem, general. We haven't had an uncontrolled incident in a very long time." the Captain said before sighing and relaxing back. "Look, I understand that you just want to keep innocent people safe, but attempting to kill or contain Dr. Banner is a waste of your valuable time. There are a lot of other issues you could be focusing your time and effort on."

Ross looked affronted by his accusation, but Steve just spoke again.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?"

The General looked surprised by the AI's sudden voice over the loud speakers, which made Steve smile. Maybe he was finally getting used to this new century.

"Can you bring up the footage of the Hulk catching Iron Man during the Chituri battle?"

"Of course."

The images on the TV changed, and Steve motioned for the general to turn and watch.

"Tony was falling uncontrollably." Steve said, watching as the green blur caught Tony in mid air. "He would probably have died if the Hulk hadn't caught him and protected him from the brunt of the fall."

Ross watched silently as the Hulk then stood beside Steve and Thor before he 'revived' Tony. He asked JARVIS to turn off the TV before he turned back to the general.

"The Hulk may have at one time been a danger. He may still be a danger under the wrong circumstances. But the best place for both of them is with the team. Bruce has much more to give the world with his genius than to be defined by one faulty experiment." Steve said quietly, sitting back again and watching Ross' face. "I trust Bruce Banner with my life, and I'm sorry if this causes conflict, but I will stand shoulder to shoulder with Tony Stark to keep you from hurting him."

"They're not the only ones."

Steve sighed, and Ross jumped when the voice sounded from above them, before Clint dropped from the air vent in the back of the room.

"So this' the douche bag that wants at Bruce?" Clint demanded, walking forward to stand beside Steve's chair, sizing up the general with a distinctly threatening air.

"I'm taking it that 'douche bag' is supposed to be an insult?" the Captain asked wearily, and the archer snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry, kid, but do I care why you're here?" Ross demanded, standing.

"General, this is-" Steve started, but Clint cut across him, stance unwavering.

"Hawkeye. SHIELD assassin. Avenger. I could kill you fifty different ways right now without a sound or a shred of evidence." the archer said stiffly, smirking at Ross' affronted expression.

"Are you threatening me?" the man shot out, but Hawkeye's smirk just widened.

"You don't like it, do you? You blind, ignorant,-"

He would have kept going, but Steve finally stood as well, putting a hand on Clint's chest.

"That's enough." he said in a clearly disapproving tone, and Clint just scowled.

"Call it like I see it, Cap." he said innocently, still glaring daggers at the General.

"Do you accept this kind of insubordination?" Ross demanded of the Captain. "Leaping out of air vents, eavesdropping on private conversations, threatening superiors?"

"Oh, trust me. You are not my superior." Clint spat, narrowing his eyes. "I sure as hell wouldn't take orders from an obsessive, sadistic, two-bit, grade A asshole like you."

"Hawkeye!" Steve said sharply, his hand still firmly on the archer's chest. "You don't need to use every insult in your vocabulary in the same conversation. There's a reason Stark has me talking to him and not you."

"You're not going to get anything past that thick skull with words, Cap. Not that there's anything to get through to. He would sooner put Bruce in a lead box and drop him into the ocean than listen to you." Clint sneered, still not taking his eyes off Ross.

"I am a five-star Army General!" Ross spat, pulling himself to his full height, but in comparison to even Clint he wasn't the most intimidating presence.

"And I'm an assassin who'se friends with the guy you want to turn into a lab rat, or just out right kill." Clint said stonily. "I really hope you don't think I'm cowed by the 'general' crap. I can see right through you. You throw around the power you've been given because you like to intimidate people. You're real used to getting what you want, aren't you?"

Steve sighed again, running his free hand down his face. He'd envisioned the conversation ending well, that he'd made Ross see his side of the coin. Now he had no idea what the general was thinking on the subject of Bruce.

"Captain, I'd appreciate it if you controlled your man." Ross said shortly, his tone devoid of emotion.

"We don't like seeing our team mates threatened, General. I can't blame him for protecting Bruce when I would do the same. His methods may be a bit abrasive, but maybe effective in the long run." Steve said, still the calm voice of reason. "Hawkeye, stand down, you've made your point."

Slowly, reluctantly, Clint took a step back, fingering the small dagger strapped to his shoulder, underneath his t-shirt. Steve saw, knew what it was, and glared strongly enough to make him release it, sigh, and fall into a chair.

"Captain, before your insubordinate assassin arrived, you wanted me to believe that the beast responds to your order. I find this very hard to believe." Ross said, shooting a final glare at Clint before turning his eyes back to Steve.

"JARVIS, do we have any video of the very beginning of the Boston mutant battle?" Steve asked, waiting for the AI's response as he returned to his chair, motioning for Ross to do the same.

"I shall put it on the screen." JARVIS said simply.

Moments later, video from what was probably Tony's helmet played, of the Hulk landing, snarling threateningly at the Army tanks, but instead of attacking them, going for the mutant apes as Steve had requested.

"And you also expect me to believe that Banner has his changes under control?" Ross asked, sounding extremely doubtful.

"He's been living in this tower for months. It's still in one piece." Steve said, beginning to get tired of having to justify his friend's every action to this man. He truely didn't see what gave him the right to terrorize the doctor.

"My respect for you has me willing to step back for now." Ross sighed, sounding put out by his own words. "But at the first hint of threat to innocent civilians, I'll have no choice but to take Banner into Army containment."

Steve felt the muscle in his jaw work again, wondering where Banner had found this guy, pissed him off so badly, and then somehow managed to keep off his radar for however many years. Clint and Tony were right; it bordered on obsession.

"I'm sorry, that sounds like a threat." Clint growled, grasping at his dagger again. "I don't even see how you have an ounce of jurisdiction here. Bruce is not going to keep living with you breathing down his neck, waiting for you to crawl out of the woodwork to threaten him again. So either you go away, or I kill you in your sleep with the help of another assassin, a demi god, a billionaire genius and a super soldier. Your call."

He irately pulled the dagger out of it's sheath, twirling it lazily in one hand.

Ross gaped at him again, looking to Steve who could do nothing but shrug. His patience had worn thin with the threats as well.

"Hawkeye, put the knife away."

They all spun around to see Bruce standing in the doorway of the room, Tony hovering over his shoulder. The doctor's face was pale but resolute and he slowly walked further into the room, his eyes anywhere but Ross.

"How long were you standing there?" Clint questioned with a frown, reluctantly sheathing his dagger again.

"Long enough." Bruce told him evasively, finally turning his eyes to the uniformed man when he acknowledged him.

"Banner." Ross said, staring at him with narrowed, untrusting eyes.

"General."

Steve was shocked to see the fear that practically oozed off the doctor in the presence of this man. It was enough to make him stand and walk over to stand at Bruce's side, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"He can't touch you. We're trying to get him used to the notion." he murmured quietly in the doctor's ear, watching as he have a small, grateful smile.

It all but evaporated, however, when Ross stood as well, walking towards him.

Clint made to stand, but Bruce just waved him back down, steeling his shoulders and facing the man that would sooner see him dead or in the smallest cage possible than standing in front of him.

"One slip up, Banner, and you will be seeing me again." he said ominously, and Steve took a small step forward, Tony growled wordlessly and Clint stood.

"Bruce, do you feel threatened?" Tony demanded, glaring at the general who had taken a small step back from the three other Avengers that were now glaring at him. "'Cause even I feel a little threatened. And if you feel threatened, we'll just have no choice but to forcibly remove this bastard from my tower. I might even have to sue the Army."

"I'm not completely certain he's under orders to be here, Tony." Steve pointed out with narrowed eyes, his hand still gripping Bruce's shoulder.

"Fine. I'll sue him then._ Very_ publicly. See how much support he gets for targeting the Avengers." Tony said darkly, eyebrows raised in challenge. "Might even be enough to get him fired. Especially if he's misusing Army resources."

Ross looked between all of them quickly, almost seeming to deflate as Tony continued talking.

"I thought you were going to have Thor toss him over the Rainbow Bridge?" Clint asked, sounding almost put out, his eyes not leaving Ross. "I was looking forward to seeing him hurled into deep space through an inter-dimensional worm hole."

Ross' mustache almost seemed to quiver with that statement, his eyes widening slightly.

"That does sound a bit more fun, doesn't it?" Tony mused, before clapping Bruce on the shoulder that wasn't already being occupied by Steve's reassuring hand. "So what d'ya say, buddy? Feeling threatened?"

Bruce smiled slightly. He wasn't as pale any more, and some of the fear had drained from his face. He couldn't describe the happiness and relief he felt to have his friends by his side at this moment, facing off against the one man he truely feared more or less for him. He'd always known that Ross would come back and try to either have him killed or contained and tested on, most likely in a way that would be the opposite of pleasant. He suspected Fury had something to do with it taking this long.

But now, Ross was the one that looked wary and threatened, and Bruce couldn't blame him. He wouldn't be very calm with three angry superheroes talking so blatently about things they could do to him either.

"At the moment, Tony, no I can't say that I am." Bruce answered truthfully, smiling when he noticed Clint's disappointed scowl, and heard Tony's sigh.

"That's too bad." the billionaire said lightly, before speaking to Ross, his tone dark. "I suggest you take into account the fact that Bruce has some pretty heavy hitting friends now, before you try to come back with tanks or something silly like that. He isn't going anywhere he doesn't want to. Have we, ah... made ourselves clear?"

"A pissed off Captain America should be a pretty good indication." Clint offered, tone light. "If not, we know a guy with a big hammer. Maybe he could beat it into your skull."

"I will not be threatened." Ross growled, his shoulders steeling as he looked up to Clint almost specifically. "None of you have any right to keep me from dealing with that monster."

Bruce flinched, and apparently the Captain had had enough.

"You have been threatening him for years." Steve said, his voice calm but clearly non-negotiable. "I know a bully when I see one. I just never expected it to be in an Army uniform. When I was in the Army, that uniform stood for something greater than a personal grudge match. By now, I'm pretty good at judging conflict. And something between you and Bruce is personal. That doesn't mean you have the right to do all of this. There's no honor in it, and you sure as hell aren't representing what that uniform stands for."

"Daaaaaaamn." Tony gave a low whistle, eyes widened slightly as he glanced at Bruce, and then at Clint, seeing as Steve's eyes were still locked on Ross' shocked face. "Cap _is_ pissed. He said hell."

"Tony." Steve said shortly, not looking back. Even so, the billionaire got the message and promptly shut his mouth.

Let it not be said that he didn't know where to draw the line with Steve's tone.

"I am done trying to explain Bruce's every action to you, as if it was any of your business in the first place. I'm having a hard time imagining any chain of command that would authorize actions like this. So if you actually do have your orders, you can bring your superior to me, because I am well aware that you have one, General or not. I'm assuming that since you have managed to keep rank that you do have the necessary intelligence to find your way to the elevator and out of the building." Steve's voice didn't raise or change in tone through his entire chewing out, which is probably what made it so intimidating in the first place.

Ross was gaping like a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he cast one more glance to where Bruce was more or less surrounded by Steve, Tony and Clint, and quickly made for the door.

The Captain snorted and relaxed as soon as the door closed behind the man, while Tony just laughed.

"Asshole. I knew getting Steve to talk to him was a good idea." the billionaire grinned at the Captain who gave a slight roll of his eyes.

"The talking didn't really do so much. Then Clint dropped in and started using every insult in his vocabulary..."

"Please, Cap, that wasn't every one." the archer said modestly, eyes glittering. "Only about a quarter. I could have added obnoxious, narcissistic, bone-headed, dumb-ass-son-of-a-bitch,..."

"Alright, alright." Steve cut him off before he could go any farther, though he did have a small grin on his face.

"Thank you." Bruce spoke up, his gratitude clearly showing in his eyes.

"No problem." Tony said easily, while nods of agreement came from the other two Avengers.

"He can't touch you, Bruce. Not anymore." Clint said matter of factly.

"Nope. But I do have one question." Tony moved so he could better see the doctor's face, one eyebrow quirked. "What the hell is between you two other than the whole thing with the Big Guy?"

"Ah," Bruce looked a little embarrassed, rubbing a hand down the back of his head. "I dated his daughter, actually. Betty."

There was silence in the conference room for a few minutes, before Tony and Clint started laughing and Steve gave a slow, almost disbelieving blink.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Tony laughed, clapping Bruce on the shoulder. "I knew you had it in you, buddy. Good for you."

Bruce rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly as well.

~One Month Later~

Ross kept his expression neutral as he slid a picture and a slip of paper across the rickety table he was seated at.

"Your target is Dr. Bruce Banner." he said shortly, glancing up to the man sitting across from him.

He was in his thirties, black haired and blue eyed, with a tall, lithe build. His hair was cropped short and he had a strict no-nonsense look about him.

"You can find him at that address in New York City." he continued, not at all fazed by the man's silence. Mercenaries weren't known for being all the talkative.

"I'll want $250,000 up front and $250,000 after it's done." the man said eventually, looking over the picture with a critical eye. "Don't think I don't recognize the address of Stark Tower. It's not exactly an easy job for that reason. But if you have the money, I'll get it done."

Ross gave a short nod before writing out a check and sliding it across the the man.

"We'll meet here again once it's done. You know how to get a hold of me."

"Give me about a week." the man said, grabbing the check and quickly leaving the small cabin.

Ross watched him leave with a smug smirk. No, it wasn't the most conventional or moral method, but if it got rid of that monster called the Hulk, he was okay with it.

He was surprised to get a call from the mercenary three days later, asking to meet. When he got there, the man was already waiting and all but shoved the check he'd written out before back at him.

"You are freaking crazy if you think anyone will take this hit." the man hissed, eyes wide with what Ross believed to be fear. "Do you realize that_ Hawkeye_ lives in that building? That he's all chummy with your target?"

"So what?" Ross demanded, shoulders stiffening. He'd met Hawkeye, and certainly hadn't been impressed by him.

"Holy Jesus, you have a death wish. You don't screw with Hawkeye. That bastard will find you, and he will put a damn arrow through your_ eye_." the mercenary shook his head, raising his hands up in surrender, taking a few steps back. "The guy is one of the deadliest assassins you will ever meet. You won't find one country on Earth where they don't know his name. Some say he's a demon. There is no amount of money that could make me screw with him. And that's not even taking into account his friend the Black Widow. She's just as deadly, if not more so. Take a little advice from me and drop this. You aren't going to find anyone stupid enough to take this contract."

With that, the man turned and retreated out of the cabin without so much as a single glance back.

Every single hired gun that Ross managed to get a hold of within the next two weeks had very similar reactions. As soon as they became aware that the man called Hawkeye was even the slightest bit involved, they high-tailed it out of there no matter how much money the general was willing to offer.

Finally, just as Ross was beginning to consider giving up, he met the man for his job. Medium height, heavy-set and former military sniper, the man was unfazed when he mentioned the fact that both Hawkeye and the Black Widow would be close by during the hit.

"Don't matter." the man had grunted, eyeing the check offered to him. "The Hawk's just a man that's earned a reputation. Same goes for the Widow. Got a respect for them, but not a fear. I'll get your job done."

Jerry Smith was not a man that feared. He'd worked alongside the now-famous Hawkeye before, when he was just a kid taking contracts. And Widow was a close-quarters fighter. He'd never even have to be on her radar.

He set up his rifle on a roof top facing the entrance to Stark Tower, setting up his scope to wait for his mark to exit the building.

Surveillance had been tough, the Tower known for having tighter security than the White House. So, Jerry had been content to just choose his vantage point and wait the good doctor out, knowing he had to exit at some point.

It was his second night of waiting, watching the comings and goings of the doors to the Tower in what amounted to patient boredom.

"Hi, Jerry."

He spun, shocked that someone had been able to sneak up on him. He had a knife in hand, but felt his heart sink when he saw none other than the Black Widow crouched behind him and ready to strike.

"Hawkeye recognized you." she explained easily, not moving herself and her sharp eyes tracking every one of his. "He says hi too."

The red headed woman pointed to the roof of the building directly to Stark Tower's left, a dark figure standing at the edge with what was probably a bow barely discernible.

Jerry swallowed loudly and slowly raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture, tossing his small knife onto the roof between him and the other assassin.

"I don't have a quarrel with either of you." he said slowly, meeting her gaze to show his honesty. "I just have a contract we all know how that is."

"Which is why you're not dead." Widow agreed with a slight nod, making Jerry feel slightly uneasy. "But we're not exactly going to let you shoot at a friend of ours."

"Shoot at?" Jerry questioned, eyes narrowing in confusion at her wording. "Not just kill, but shoot at."

"Yes. See this more for your protection than his. No bullet would kill him. Wouldn't even leave a wound behind. We'd just end up with a very pissed, very green Hulk on our hands. No one wants that." she explained and Jerry felt himself pale.

"Seems like something I should have known about in the first place." he said lightly, and Widow just shrugged.

"As far as we know, Ross isn't aware of that particular fact." she said easily and Jerry gave a short nod, not surprised that they knew who had hired him. He didn't have to waste his breath trying to defend the man, after all. "We are, though. _Very_ aware if you get my meaning."

Jerry grunted, wondering if he should just ask to leave, or if that would just send the encounter downhill. His hand to hand was nothing to underestimate, but the Black Widow could kill him in one move, with five seconds. He wasn't stupid.

"Hawkeye's kind of curious as to why you actually took the contract. We've seen at least five others start, and then beat it within three days." Widow said lightly and Jerry felt himself stiffen.

"A job's a job, no matter whose involved." he said simply, and she gave a slow nod, before nodding for him to look behind him.

Slowly, he turned, not at all liking the fact that he was putting his back to her.

Within moments, he heard the tell-tale sound of an approaching arrow and took a small step back, just in time to see the weapon fly straight into the barrel of his rifle.

Jerry felt his blood run cold at the sight of the arrow's black, sleek fletching sticking out of the barrel. The archer was on the other side of the street, at least 700 yards away, and adding in the breeze from the traffic below... The shot should have been impossible with a gun, much less an _arrow_.

"That's for you." Widow's voice sounded from his right, just as another arrow slammed into the roof top a few inches to the left of his rifle, the tip actually imbedded into the concrete. "And that's for Ross."

Ross' arrow actually had a slip of paper secured around the shaft, and Jerry felt himself nodding without his brain's express consent.

Even so, he spoke gruffly, not bothering to turn to face the Black Widow.

"Right. I'm just going to grab that and go then."

"Good plan." she said lightly, taking a few small steps to be side to prove that she wasn't going to hinder his exit.

As quickly as humanly possible, Jerry packed up his rifle, leaving the arrow in the barrel seeing as he knew it was going to take some effort to remove. He then grabbed the arrow meant for his employer and sat it on the very top inside his duffle before turning and leaving the roof without a glance back.

Ross was livid as he returned to his office after meeting with the last assassin he'd hired. The arrow and check he'd been given were in his jacket, and while he'd seen the note on the weapon, he hadn't yet read it.

What had shaken him slightly was the arrow the man had shown him that had been shot into his rifle barrel. He didn't expressly think it possible and was reluctant to believe his story.

As he slammed his door behind him, he glanced to his desk, freezing when he saw someone seated in his chair.

"I wish I could say that I was sorry for causing your anger." he man said lightly, spinning slightly in the chair and watching him carefully. "But that'd be lying. I'm thrilled, giddy even. What's that, six guys I've sent running back to you?"

"How the hell do you get in here?" Ross spat, recognizing the man as Hawkeye.

The man he'd met before when he'd visited Stark Tower, and the man that'd sent every hit man he'd hired running back to him.

The guy certainly didn't look intimidating; muscled yes, but smaller than any of the people he had sent. He didn't understand what about this 'Hawkeye' had sent all those assassins into such a frenzy. To him, the guy was all talk and no action.

"That's for me to know and for you to worry yourself sick over trying to figure out." the younger man gave a dark smirk that sent chills up Ross' spine. Not that the general would ever admit it. "I would have made a house call, but Bruce didn't want your daughter worried. He didn't expressly want me here either, but the rest of us weren't just going to let you slide with putting out a hit on him. Not that it would have done much other than send the Big Guy into a furious frenzy, but maybe that's what you were going for in the first place." Hawkeye shrugged, before nodding to the chair closest to the general.

Ross scowled and didn't move. He wasn't going to bossed around and intimidated by this man in his own office. He reached for his radio, only to pause when the younger man tisked.

"I wouldn't. They're going to be here in a few minutes anyway to fire your ass, so I don't think you'd want to speed up the process." the younger, sandy-haired man said lightly, making Ross gape at him.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded hotly, fists clenching and eyes narrowing. "I am in good standing with the Army, they're not going to just_ fire_ me."

"Hmmm." the man at his desk shrugged, eyes bright with mirth. "If you say so. Anyway, the reason I'm here. I suppose you haven't gotten around to reading the little note around the arrow shaft I sent back for you. Doesn't matter."

Ross watched, not bothering to hide a glare, as Hawkeye reached down and pulled a file up and setting it on the desk, spinning it so it faced the general. Grudgingly curious, he took a quick step forward and flipped it open, eyes widening when he saw his own picture staring up at him, the words 'ACTION PENDING' stamped across the paper beneath.

"This is your entire file, from the minute you were born until yesterday." Hawkeye said with another smirk, leaning back. "We know everything about you."

"We?" Ross asked tersely, flipping through it quickly and scowling when he saw reports of things he didn't really _want_ reported.

"SHIELD. I am an agent; working for them, taking out who they tell me to." the younger man pointed out, but Ross just tossed the file back onto the desk. "See those words, 'ACTION PENDING'? That means I am _this_ close from getting my boss to let me put an arrow through your eye socket."

The man held his fingers about a centimeter apart for emphasis and Ross felt his blood run cold. He opened his mouth to speak, but this time Hawkeye cut him off, his expression darkening into one that he was most definitely afraid of.

The younger man's gray eyes alone held a glint that said he would not hesitate to do just that, and more if he could get away with. It was an expression that said anyone with a hint of sanity had better run like hell in the other direction, or this assassin was going to make sure that you stopped breathing. It wasn't any emotion in particular that Ross could identify; certainly not anger like he would have expected.

"Let me make certain that you understand before you say something that just pisses me off more. The moment you even think about taking another course of action against Bruce, I will get my 'okay'. And the moment I do, I will thoroughly enjoy taking you out, with extreme prejudice. Understand?"

Ross was going to start spouting off about their presence in the United States of America, where he had no right to threaten him in such a way. But then, he stopped, sure that SHIELD's scope was larger than he wanted to realize.

Hawkeye must have seen the change in his eyes, the onslaught of the fear, because he smirked and stood.

"I'm glad we understand each other." he said lightly, just as there was a knock on the office door, the unmistakable voice of the Secretary of Defense announcing his presence. Ross turned to look with wide eyes, before looking back to see the assassin inexplicably gone without a sound or trace of him ever being there.

* * *

**So, there it is. It's currently only a one-shot but if you'd like to see it continued, please tell me so in a review. (Which I really do appreciate receiving)**

**I hope you enjoyed it!  
~Dogstar**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, so due to overwhelming response, I'm going to continue this story. Seriously, all you guys that reviewed, alerted, and favorited this story are _awesome_. Thank you for the feedback.  
**

**Anyway, so I'm currently guesstimating this story to now be around 5 chapters. (I know, big change from just a one-shot) This one's a little shorter as it just sets the stage for the rest of the story's plot line, but there is some action at the end. I appreciate all your feedback for this chapter too, how you think the story's progressing and all, what you like, what you don't like, ect. There probably won't be more than a day or two between each update.**

**I own nothing. At all, sadly.**

Clint was wearing a smug, dark smirk as he made his way lithely off the Army base, keeping clear of any surveillance cameras until he slipped back through the small opening he'd cut in the wire fence to get into the base in the first place.

He would have much rather stayed and watched Ross' undeniable temper tantrum that would have come with the realization that he _was_ actually being fired, but Fury had only given him permission to go in, give the message, and get back out without being seen by anyone but Ross. And he wasn't about to mess up his chances of being the one that got to take Ross out if the opportunity arose.

The general had made a huge mistake in targeting Bruce, because not one of the Avengers were the type to sit by and let a friend suffer. Fury had gone as far as to call them 'fiercely over-protective', and coming from the SHIELD director, that was significant.

When he arrived back at Stark Tower, he took the elevator up to the top floor where, by JARVIS' information, the rest of the team was located.

He wasn't surprised when everyone's eyes snapped to him when he came in, but he said nothing, plopping down into the couch between Natasha and Steve with another smirk.

"Did he cry?" Tony broke the silence, voice excited and eyes bright, making Steve and Natasha roll their eyes while Thor gave a booming laugh and Bruce just shook his head, eyes dark. "Pee his pants? Beg for forgiveness? Come on, Barton, give me something."

"No, to all of the above." Clint informed them, sounding almost wistful. "But he did get the message. Unless he has fewer brain cells than even I expected, which _is_ saying something, we shouldn't have to worry about that asshole anymore."

"Have any of you considered the possibility that he's _right_?" Bruce spoke up suddenly from where he sat, eyes downcast and wringing his hands nervously. His voice was strained slightly, traces of fear discernible as well.

The room was silent for a moment, everyone's eyes turning to the doctor in varying degrees of surprise and shock.

"Nah." Tony was once again the first to speak up, his voice light as if he was simply commenting on the weather.

Similar mutterings came from the others, glancing between each other and then back to Bruce with raised eyebrows and concerned expressions.

"Maybe you should." Bruce said tonelessly, still not looking up at any of them, fidgeting where he sat against the arm of the couch. "Don't get me wrong. I appreciate your support more than you could ever understand. But, really, he has a point. You have to see that."

"Do not." Tony protested childishly, before he adopted a much more serious tone and expression, moving to sit on the empty coffee table in front of the doctor, poking him lightly in the knee. "Is this why you've been all distant lately? You actually started listening to that bastard?"

Bruce just sighed, but it was all the response any of them needed. Silently, Steve stood, waving for Thor, Natasha and Clint to follow. They all knew that if Bruce was going to talk to any of them, it would be Tony. And if any of them could convince Bruce he was wrong, it would also be Tony. The two had developed strong bonds with the entire team, but especially with each other. Both contributed it to the abnormally long hours spent working in the lab.

Tony waited until they were alone in the floor before he spoke again, unsurprised by Steve's actions.

"So I thought we'd gotten past the whole 'I'm a danger to every living thing around me' issue." the billionaire said lightly, not moving and watching his friend intently.  
"Tony, it's not like anything's changed." Bruce said quietly, but Stark just scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Course it has. Both you _and_ the Big Guy have us now. He _likes_ us Bruce. I know you can't exactly notice that yourself, but I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. Ross just refuses to see what's staring him in his fat face, and you shouldn't care what that bastard thinks anyway. You. Are. Not. A. Monster."

"Not everyone is as inconsiderate of their own safety as you are, Tony." Bruce snorted, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. "The Other Guy likes the team, okay fine. But what happens when something goes wrong, I change and the Other Guy gets out? I could kill people."

"Bruce, how long have you lived here?" Tony asked shortly, raising an eyebrow.  
"Six months." the doctor sighed, leaning back against the couch.

"And how many times has the Jolly Green Giant actually made an appearance, not counting the times he was kicking evil ass with us?"

"Two." Bruce said matter of factly. "And once he threw Thor out the window. And completely destroyed the training gym."

"That was Point Break's fault." Tony said quickly, a grin forming on his face despite the situation. "He shouldn't have tried to wrestle the Big Guy in the first place. Besides, he can fly with his magical hammer. Didn't even hurt him. And I fixed the gym."

"Tony that's not the point." Bruce said, exasperation obvious. "What if it had been you without your suit. Or Clint, or Natasha."

"Bruce, we're not going to let anything happen." Tony said, his voice firm and probably the most serious Bruce had ever heard it. "I promise you that. You've just got to trust us. Because we're not going to let Ross hurt you either. You don't have to deal with him alone. Hell, you don't even have to deal with the Big Guy alone. You've got yourself the rest of our motley group of misfits."

"Motley group of misfits?" Bruce asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, none of us are the picture of normal." Tony shrugged. "Or mental health for that matter."

The billionaire gave a bright smile and jumped to his feet, holding out his hand as an offer to help the doctor up.

"Come on. Me, you, a little R&D... See if we can't find a way to annoy the hell out of Rodgers."

"Why is that your goal a majority of the time?" Bruce asked mildly, but he accepted the hand up, shaking his head.

"Because it's _fun_." Tony said brightly, throwing an arm around the doctor's shoulders as they walked toward the elevator.

Bruce rolled his eyes, but didn't shrug the arm off, letting Tony lead him toward the elevator.

It had been a long time since he'd actually felt safe. Like he wasn't in danger, and at the same time wasn't putting everyone around him in danger. Yet somehow, with a short conversation, Tony Stark was able to give him that feeling. It wasn't just Tony either. The entire team made him able to relax; feel like he was actually doing something good by lending the Other Guy to help them.

And he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't like it.

* * *

Now-former General Ross was no less than furious.

In six short hours, his entire life had been ripped out from beneath him. His career, his standing and reputation within the Army, his paycheck and pension, everything.  
It had been humiliating, to say the least, to listen to the Secretary of Defense berate him for misusing United States Army resources. And somewhere between signing the letter of resignation that had been written for him, and cleaning out his office, the prickling of fear that had been the result of Hawkeye's threat had slowly become hot, sizzling anger.

Clearly, the Army had no idea how much of a threat Banner and the huge green monster inside him actually were. That, or the group called SHIELD were forcing their hands. He wouldn't put it past them, seeing as it was undoubtedly Stark and that cocky asshole called Hawkeye that had gotten him fired.

He wasn't sure how, or when, but he wasn't going to rest until he personally put that monster down, and took out his revenge against Hawkeye.

Any fear he had felt before because of the man was gone, a mark, he knew, of a man with nothing to lose.

Even so, he wasn't going to deny the truth of the situation. He didn't have anything to lose, not anymore. Which meant he could put absolutely everything he had toward his new goals.

It didn't take him long to realize, though, that he had absolutely no where to start. So instead of moping around his empty house, he found himself a nice, loud bar to get drunk in while he tried to come up with a plan.

One thing he knew for sure was that if he couldn't use Army resources, he'd have to find someone else's. He was angry- furious even- but not to the point of doing something suicidal like trying to go after two 'Avengers' on his own. He would need help, people that would be willing to go against Hawkeye, so obviously not just any hired gun off the street would work for his purposes.

He was on his third beer and trying to rectify the fact that he wasn't yet drunk when his cell phone rang.

Frowning, and wondering who could possibly be calling him, and from a blocked number at that, he answered the phone gruffly.

'Mr. Ross, good evening.' the polite voice of what sounded like a middle aged man responded, and Ross sat up a little straighter, not recognizing the voice that knew his name.  
"Who is this?" he demanded, not in the mood for games.

'I'm not quite ready to divulge that information just yet.' the voice said matter of factly, though the tone was still light and seemingly unruffled by his gruffness. 'But I do have a proposition for you. I've been watching you for quite some time, and I believe that you're ready to hear my offer.'

Ross started to speak, annoyed and confused. Someone _else_ had been watching him? And now wanted something from him?

'Mr. Ross, I'm going to be frank. I'm interested in one Dr. Bruce Banner and his, ah... abilities. I hear that you are the man to go to for both tracking the man down and... retrieving him.'

Ross froze at this statement, not willing to believe his luck. Here he was, looking for some way to get at Banner, and now some random man was calling him for help with that same problem.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, noticeably less gruff and more interested.

'What I want is your expertise in dealing with the monster. What I want to use it for is building an army.' the voice said calmly. 'I know you've managed to create something similar to Banner's condition before, and I'm interested in perfecting and ultimately using the formula.'

"For what?" Ross asked sharply, possibilities swirling quickly through his mind, beer and surroundings long since forgotten.

'Our mutual friends at SHIELD. Among other things.' the voice informed him, still not a change in tone.

Ross found himself smirking darkly. This opportunity was almost too good to be true.

"I'll have to think about it." he hedged, before another idea popped into his mind. "And if I do agree to this, there's one thing I want."

'And what would that be, Mr. Ross?' the man questioned curiously.

"I want at the man called Hawkeye." Ross said firmly, his anger and want for revenge glittering in his eyes. Assassin or not, the man was human. He could be hurt, and he could be killed. The trick would be actually getting him under control. And, at the same time, grabbing Banner without unleashing the beast.

'That can be arranged.' he man agreed. 'I have already taken the liberty of disposing of the men SHIELD had watching you. Would you agree to meet with me tomorrow morning to finalize a plan?'

"Yes." Ross said with his own dark smirk. This was just the opportunity he wanted.

'Excellent. A car will pick you up at your house at, let's say, 7:30. I look forward to meeting with you.'

With that, the man hung up, leaving the line dead.

Ross pocketed his phone, paid for his drinks, and quickly left the bar, making back for his house. He was now in a decidedly better mood than he had been when he left it.

* * *

Bruce watched somewhat with amusement and somewhat with exasperation as the previews for their movie began to play.

It had been Tony's idea to get out of the tower for a while to go see a movie. The only one that had taken any sort of convincing having been Natasha, and even she no longer seemed aggravated, seated between Clint and the end of the row of seats.

Tony was the only one with any idea of what it was exactly they were seeing, which was worrying to everyone but the billionaire himself and Thor. Stark had even gone as far as to buy out the entire theater just for their group of six, which unfortunately wasn't surprising to anyone.

The doctor gave a slight sigh when Thor sheepishly offered him the popcorn bucket, which was already more or less empty.

"Looks like we're definitely going to need more of that." Bruce said lightly, moving to stand. "I'm going to go get some before the movie actually starts."

"We're going to need a couple." Clint pointed out dryly from his left, standing as well. "I'll go with you."

Bruce cast him an exasperated glance, complete with raised eyebrow, but didn't protest.

Even though it had been a week since anybody had heard anything out of Ross, Bruce always seemed to have someone with him outside the tower. They had tried being discrete about it, even Tony brushing off his questions, but Thor had never been one to beat around the bush and had informed him matter of factly that the agents SHIELD had set to watch the former general had gone missing and Ross was in the wind.

Not in those exact words, but that's what Bruce had garnered from the long, drawn out explanation that the demi-god had given him, which was quickly followed up by the declaration that if _he_ ever saw the man, he would gladly go through with Tony's request to hurl him over the Rainbow Bridge.

The others had pretended not to realize that Bruce knew their motivations and continued accompanying him wherever he went.

"Hurry back! You don't want to miss the start!" Tony called after them, and Bruce raised a hand to signify he'd heard and continued out of the theater.

"You'd think we'd at least _start_ the movie before we ran out of popcorn." Clint sighed, but Bruce just gave an amused snort and a slight shake of his head.

"With Thor, Steve and Tony?" he asked rhetorically and Clint made a sound of agreement and shrugged.

The archer frowned slightly when they walked into the lobby of the theater and were met with complete silence. Stopping suddenly, he put out a hand to stop Bruce as well, sharp eyes scanning the entire lobby.

"Where is everybody?" Bruce asked quietly, looking around for himself.

Tony may have bought out the theater their movie was in, but not all of them. There weren't even any employees behind the candy counter.

"Let's go back and get the others." Clint said slowly, taking a few slow steps backwards, the way they had come. "Something isn't right."

Bruce wasn't about to argue with him. Clint was most definitely more experienced when it came to bad situations. And while he hoped that this wasn't one, he defaulted to Clint anyway.

Clint didn't respond, freezing again before spinning around Bruce and swinging one leg up and around just in time to have it connect with the temple of a dark clothed man that was sliding out from behind a 3D cardboard cutout for some movie.

The man went down, instantly unconscious, and Clint bodily put himself between Bruce and the other eleven men that were sliding out of hiding places across the lobby.

"What do you think of my odds?" Clint muttered, watching the eleven silent men carefully, his stance stiff but ready.

"I think we need to get the others." Bruce said quickly, eyes widening.

Even as he said the words, however, he didn't see how it would be possible. Two men had blocked the hallway entrance, the nine others forming a silent half-circle around them.

"That bad, huh?" Clint asked, smirk forming on his face. "So little faith, Banner."

The archer then turned his attention to the still silent group.

"What are you guys? Monks?" he taunted, quickly counting in his head how many knives he had on his person. Only five, which meant he might have to get his hands dirty at some point. "So uh, can I get a reason why you're here, maybe?"

"We're here to finish some business."

Both Clint and Bruce cursed quietly when former general Ross stepped forward from where he had been standing behind his new friends by the theater doors.

"I'm actually glad you made this so easy. We didn't have to go through the trouble of blowing the charges we set." Ross wore a smirk of his own as he surveyed the situation in front of him. "You both came to us on your own."

The fact that he had said 'both' wasn't lost on Clint, and he gave a mocking smirk.

"Aw, I'm touched. I don't get left out. I really hate it when that happens." the archer said in a false bright voice, eyes on Ross, even though he was aware of every twitch of the other men.

He gave Bruce's arm a reassuring pat behind him, able to hear the way the doctor's breath had sped up as soon as Ross had spoken.

"Look, we've got a movie to catch. So why don't you tell your friends to get the hell out of our way." Clint said, able to recognize the need to get Bruce out of this situation.

The Hulk definitely wouldn't be an asset now, not with live charges supposedly around the place.

"I'm going to need you to move so we can get the monster you're hiding tranquilized before someone gets hurt." Ross countered, his smirk widening at Bruce's audible sharp intake of breath.

"Stay with me, Bruce." Clint murmured reassuringly, glaring furiously at Ross. "I'll get you out of here. Stay down once this starts."

That said, Clint grasped the most accessible of his knives, the one on his belt beneath the edge of his t-shirt, and flipped it so the blade was in his hand before he threw it with unerring accuracy into the throat of the man that would have been the greatest threat to any of Bruce's possible hiding places.

As soon as that man collapsed, gurgling on the blood that spouted from his throat, the others pulled guns and opened fire on Clint.

The archer practically pushed Bruce out of the line of fire before he flipped to the side, pulling another knife as he leapt at the next closet man, the gunshots stopping as he did.

The jab with his knife was blocked easily, and Clint realized these men had to have training from somewhere. He grabbed the wrist that swung a punch at him, physically flipping around the man and using his momentum to kick one of the other attackers coming up behind the one he was fighting in the face, hearing the audible snap of bone as the man's nose was snapped and he collapsed to the floor.

The man whose arm he still held screamed as his shoulder was dislocated when Clint dropped to his feet, but even that was abruptly cut off when the archer snapped his neck.

Bruce was so engrossed in watching Clint's fight that he didn't notice the man coming up behind him until he felt the pricks of multiple needles shoot through the fabric of his shirt and into his back.

His limbs instantly froze and refused to respond, and even the now familiar feeling of the Other Guy exploding out was unable to take hold, no matter how hard that other part of him tried to scrabble to the surface.

Terrified, but knowing it had to be from whatever tranquilizer Ross was using against him, Bruce felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

Clint, on the other hand, was down to one knife and four men. He heard a strangled sound of protest come from near the area he had left Bruce and he spun quickly to look, spitting out a curse when he saw the doctor's slumped form. Of course, it was probably too much to ask that _someone_ come and check what was taking them so damn long to get popcorn.

His distraction is what caused one of the remaining men to be able to land a punch to his jaw, followed quickly by a kick that just barely clipped the back of his head.  
Clint quickly spun out of the way of any more blows, shaking his head to clear it before glaring furiously at the man who had landed a hit on him and was now smirking.

"So you aren't actually robots." the archer hissed mostly to himself, flipping himself so his legs wrapped around the man's neck and then twisting sharply to snap it.

"Hawkeye."

Clint rolled quickly to his feet, but stayed in a ready crouch, turning to look to where the voice had come from, his eyes narrowing when he saw that Ross and another of the men had pulled Bruce's unconscious form between them, a pistol held to the doctor's head.

"Well _shit_." Clint muttered, but that distraction was all one of the men needed to take one of their guns and slam it across the back of the archer's head, pitching him to the side and into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Well, there you go. Hope you enjoyed it.  
Don't forget to shoot me a review and tell me what you think if you're feeling generous.  
~Dogstar**


	3. Chapter 3

**I've got to say, you guys are persistent. All day I've been getting reviews telling me to update quickly, so here's the new chapter.**

**I'm pretty sure I've been good about replying to any reviews left with a username, but if I've left you out somehow, please let me know! I love getting and responding to your reviews, so don't forget to leave me one with any feedback or questions. I can't believe how many reviews/alerts/favorites this story has gotten! I'm just glad you all seem to like it.**

**Alright, so I thought I'd get this out to you all quickly because of that evil little cliffhanger I left you with, but because of that, I haven't gotten a start on the 4th chapter yet. I'll try to get it up by Friday, but if not, it won't be until at least Monday since I'll be out of town for the weekend. So I hope you all enjoy this one.**

**On another note, this chapter and the next are going to be mostly from Clint's point of view, seeing as drugged Bruce won't be able to give you the whole picture. Not all, mind you, just mostly.**

**As always, I own nothing recognizable.**

* * *

When Clint came to he instantly groaned, giving his head a slow, experimental shake.

Waking up to a throbbing headache and what probably amounted to a concussion wasn't a fun experience. Waking up and realizing that he was sitting in a chair, arms pulled and secured to it behind him made it doubly worse.

That fact made him force himself to focus that much quicker, his eyes snapping open and immediately into a glare.

He was in a small, dimly lit concrete room, his chair being the only piece of furniture, or anything else for that matter, in the room. The only air vent was at least five feet above him and no bigger than his head, which wouldn't help him in any way. The next thing he realized was that directly in front of him, flanking the door _inside_ the room of all places, were two silent, heavy-set and armed guards.

Clint couldn't help a low, disbelieving chuckle, tossing his head back and ignoring the wave of nauseating pain that resulted from his concussion. So it seemed Ross was stupider than he thought, on so many levels.

Not only had the bastard come after Bruce again, which ticked him off in the first place, but he had taken the archer himself along for the ride. And then proceeded to vastly underestimate him.

_Two_ guards, _inside_ the room where he was tied to a chair only by his wrists with rope. This was lining up to be the shortest stint of captivity Clint had ever experienced.

Now, all he had to do was catch the guards unaware, get them out of the way, and find Bruce before Ross could hurt him.

If the bastard already had, he would be sure to repay the favor.

"So." Clint spoke up, slurring his speech slightly to make it seem like his concussion was worse than it actually was. "Do I get a phone call or something? 'Cause that'd be awesome."

Neither of the guards made a sound, though one did cut him a sharp glare, which made him smirk.

"Oh, right, I forgot. You're all monks. You know, I always thought monks were more of a peace-loving bunch. With the whole religious brotherhood thing. Tell me, where did Ross find a bunch of monks-for-hire?" Clint asked mockingly, cautiously working on the ropes around his wrists. It certainly wasn't difficult.

"Keep your mouth shut." the guard that had glared at him before spat out, and Clint gave himself an impressed expression.

"Wow. A sentence. I'm surprised, really." the archer mocked, his stormy eyes glinting when the man advanced towards him threateningly.

Clint waited patiently as the guard leaned down to get in his face, not at all phased by the anger that dominated his features.

"It'd be in your own best interests to keep your mouth shut, Hawk." the guard warned, eyes narrowed and face only inches from the archer's.

"And it'd be in yours to keep out of my face." Clint responded easily before bringing his hands forward and swiftly snapping the man's neck with one sharp twist of his head.

The other guard raised his pistol, but before he could get a shot off, Clint had sprung forward and kicked the weapon away, sending it flying across the room. The guard lunged at him then, but the younger assassin just flipped himself onto the man's back, swiping his legs out from under him and wrapping his arms around the guard's throat in a headlock as he fell onto the floor with a grunt, eyes widening in fear.

"Tell you what." Clint said shortly, tightening his grip slightly. "You tell me where they're keeping Banner, and I'll let you live."

"Go... Go left down the hall. Third door on the left." the guard gasped quickly, his gulp both audible and obvious against Clint's arm.

"Smart man." Clint said condescendingly before tightening his hold, making the guard choke and splutter for air.

He held it just long enough to make the man fall limp and unconscious before he quickly moved to his feet, collecting the man's pistol, as well as the key card clipped to his belt. Clint gave the gun a cursory inspection as he moved to the dead guard and grabbed his pistol as well before he moved to the door, swiping the key card he'd stolen into the reader to open it.

He smirked when the door clicked open and he cautiously moved into the hallway, eyes flicking up and down it constantly. He moved down the hall to the left quickly, his footsteps light and silent.

Coming to the door he'd been directed to, Clint slid the key card through this reader as well, waiting impatiently for it to click open before he edged inside. He stifled a furious growl when he saw the room, which looked more like a lab of some sort. He could see who looked like Bruce strapped down to a table in the middle of the room, the doctor unmoving with IV's going into both of his arms.

His movements hurried but still holding an air of caution, Clint crossed the floor between them, eyes scanning every possible nook and cranny someone could be hiding. As soon as he was beside Bruce, he put a gentle hand on the doctor's arm, hoping he was conscious.

"Bruce." he said quietly, giving a slight sigh of relief when the doctor's eyes slowly and sluggishly opened, though they were bright with fear and panic.

"Clint?" he slurred, the fear fading into his own relief and confusion.

"Hey, doc, how're you doing?" Clint asked, quickly moving to gently remove both needles from Bruce's arms and then unbuckle the straps at his wrists and ankles.

"Aside from keeping me drugged, all they've done is take blood. Which isn't a good thing, but at least it's not painful." Bruce forced out, lying still while the archer freed him. "You?"

"Concussion, but so far vastly underestimated. Hence my presence." Clint smirked, wrapping an arm around Bruce's shoulders and pulling him into a sitting position. "Can you move on your own?"

"A little. The drugs are keeping the Other Guy down though. They aren't like anything Ross has used on me before." Bruce explained, sliding off the table and onto his feet, leaning on Clint heavily.

"I don't know what's worse. The fact that they're new, or the fact that the bastard's drugged you like this before." Clint growled, his eyes sparking with anger. He shifted his hold on the doctor to be more comfortable for both of them, before taking one of the pistols he'd stolen in his free hand and taking the safety off.

Bruce saw and chuckled, giving a slow shake of his head.

"How many guys have you gone through?" he asked and Clint gave him a bright smirk.

"Only two. Now come on. Let's get out of here so I can get my quiver and put an arrow through Ross' eye. Maybe both; haven't decided." the archer shrugged and slowly started forward, moving at the pace Bruce's heavy, sluggish limbs would allow.

Before he swiped the key card to open the door, Clint paused again, awkwardly grabbing the second pistol and holding it out to Bruce.

"Hide that. If shit goes to hell, use it." he said firmly, and Bruce blinked at it before slowly taking the gun.

"I'm not promising miracles." he warned, but Clint just shook his head.

"Doesn't have to be pretty, doc, just make sure it gets the job done. You're getting out of here." the archer said matter of factly and Bruce frowned at him.

"You mean 'we're', right?" he asked pointedly, and Clint smirked, swiping the card.

"If we can swing it. But I'm not going to lie, Bruce. You're my priority here, simply based on the fact that we don't need Ross making more Hulks and letting them run around." the assassin ignored the doctor's accusing glare as he eased the door open.

Out in the hallway again, Clint glanced both ways, uneasy that he knew absolutely nothing about where they were or the layout of the building. Any way he went had the possibility of leading him anywhere _but_ the exit.

Going out on a limb that they would put Bruce deeper in the building than him, he went back towards the room he had been in, eyes sharp and sweeping over their surroundings.

Both he and Bruce stiffened when quick, heavy footsteps sounded behind them after they'd gone a couple hundred yards.

"Shit." Clint muttered, surveying the hallway that forked off in two separate directions just ahead.

He more or less carried Bruce to that point, settling them both behind the corner of the hallway that forked off. After checking what he could see of the hall beyond, Clint crouched, pulled Bruce behind him and held his gun ready.

The footsteps slowed as they neared the fork, the archer distinguishing the sounds of two different men. He also heard Bruce's breath hitch out of fear, but he ignored that, instead squeezing the trigger of his pistol as the men came into view, muttering to themselves about escaped prisoners.

The gun barked out two short shots, both men collapsing instantly.

Knowing that the sound of gunfire would attract unwanted attention, Clint stood quickly and pulled Bruce up as well, giving the doctor a grim smirk.

"This would be so much easier if I knew how to get out of the damn building." he muttered, waving off Bruce's apologetic expression. "It's not your fault, Bruce. Come on."

Clint retook his position supporting the doctor, noting happily that the older man could now support more of his own weight.

"Drugs starting to wear off?" he asked knowingly and Bruce gave a small nod.

"A little bit. Not to the point that we're at risk of the Other Guy, though. Thankfully." Bruce said, but Clint snorted.

"Well, if finding a way out of here doesn't work, we'll play a glorified game of cat and mouse until that can be plan B." the archer said matter of factly and Bruce stared at him in shock.

"I don't like plan B." he said dryly, but Clint just shrugged.

"Which is why it's plan B and not plan A." he said easily. "Plans B-Z tend to get steadily less desirable. That's just how it works."

"Have you ever actually had a plan Z?" Bruce questioned curiously as they continued down the hallway, passing doors every few feet.

"I've gotten to W." Clint said modestly, pausing at another intersection of hallways.

"Impressive." Bruce said, a slight chuckle gracing his voice. "How undesirable was plan W?"

"Well, it involved getting captured and tortured by a bunch of psychotic arms dealers, so pretty undesirable." Clint said lightly, and Bruce scoffed.

"Doesn't sound like much of a plan." he pointed out.

"I had it under control." the archer said defensively, though he gave the doctor a smirk.

"Sure. Let's not get to plan W." the older man suggested and Clint nodded.

"Plan B seems pretty effective." he pointed out and Bruce made a sound of hesitant agreement.

"Assuming we can play cat and mouse for that long."

"I'm working on plan C."

"Comforting." Bruce said dryly, giving a quiet hiss and rubbing his head with his free hand.

"You alright?" Clint asked quickly, pausing slightly, but Bruce just waved him forward.

They could both hear footsteps getting closer behind them again, no matter how much both of them were trying to ignore that.

"Just a headache. Let's keep moving, we're sitting ducks here." the doctor said and Clint gave a short nod and a grin.

"We're in a hallway. We're sitting ducks pretty much everywhere." he pointed out and Bruce gave him an unamused look.

"Usually I'm the pessimistic one." he said dryly and Clint shrugged.

"I have a morbid sense of humor." he said lightly, continuing down the hallway.

"We could always start trying doors." Bruce offered carefully, but Clint just shook his head, giving the key card a slight wave.

"But then they can track where we are. They'll know what card got out of my room, and then into yours. They'll be looking for wherever else the card was used." the archer explained, and Bruce gave a slight sigh.

They went on for a few more minutes, before turning a corner in the hallway and cursing.

They'd come to a dead end, the only possible exit being a door to the right.

"This might end badly." Clint said as a sigh, letting go of Bruce for a moment to approach the door, key card in one hand and pistol held ready in the other.

"What happened to tracking the key card?" Bruce asked with a frown, leaning back against the wall.

"Well, we're already at a dead end, and they're already behind us." Clint sighed, not sounding at all happy.

He slid the key card, muttering furiously when it gave an unhappy beep at him and didn't click the lock open.

"Apparently the idiot I stole this from isn't at the top of the food chain." he said unhappily, looking back to Bruce.

He knew that despite the banter they'd had while they walked, that Bruce had to be terrified of the situation they were in. And he really wished that he could give his friend a better answer than the one he was.

"Back the other way then?" the doctor offered and Clint could do nothing but nod.

"Just remember what I said about that gun." he said firmly, and Bruce clenched his jaw but nodded.

Clint made to continue, but paused, head tilting to the side as he gauged the distance of the footsteps that were coming up on them. It wasn't much, certainly not enough for them to try to make it to any past intersection they'd come across.

"Get behind me." he ordered simply, checking the load on his pistol while he had the time.

It had a typical eight round clip, and he'd already used two bullets, which left six. Which, to him, meant six dead bodies.

"Clint we can't fight them in their own _base_." Bruce hissed, the fear now audibly returning to his voice.

"Steadily less desirable." Clint reminded easily, sliding the clip back into the pistol and readying the gun with one smooth motion, his voice lowering. "Just think of how shitty plans D-Z could be in comparison."

"Clint," Bruce started again, but trailed off when the first guard rounded the corner of the hallway and the assassin let off his first shot.

Three guards went down before they had the common sense to stop and fire their own guns around the corner. Clint quickly crouched without a word, avoiding the string of bullets that were sprayed across the hallway and motioning for Bruce to do the same, aiming carefully with one of his three remaining bullets.

A man around the corner screamed as a bullet tore through the hand that was holding the gun.

As the weapon clattered uselessly to the ground, Clint was surprised, but relieved that another one didn't instantly take its place. Hopefully, it meant that the guards were a little more afraid of him than they'd been initially. Or he'd killed all the men in that group. Either one was at least a partial plus.

Motioning for Bruce to stay where he was, Clint edged forward cautiously, gun held ready in front of him. He let out a long, slow breath before turning the corner, almost instantly paling at the size of the group of guards now waiting for him with a distinct edge of caution.

There were at least fifteen, and they all raised pistols as soon as Clint was visible.

"Awesome." the archer muttered, readying himself to roll back behind the corner as soon as they started firing.

"You don't know when to give up, do you?" Ross' aggravated voice came from near the back of the group, but he didn't come forward, which just made Clint scowl.

"No. And you're a damn coward." the archer said matter of factly, smirking at Ross' furious hiss. "Come on, more than fifteen to one and you still won't even show your damn face."

Clint knew that he was in a position that if anyone rushed him, Bruce would have a shot. So, taking a giant leap of faith, Clint fired his last two shots, each into the head of a different guard before he tossed the empty gun to the side.

Ross quickly spat out a command _not_ to fire, which made Clint smirk.

He didn't specifically know what Ross wanted with him, but he was pretty sure it was either revenge or spite. And obviously, he himself wanted an opportunity to have a go at him, which he wouldn't get if the assassin had been reduced to Swiss cheese.

Clint saw Bruce stare at him with a wide-eyed, confused expression as he held his hands up, seemingly in surrender. Four guards inched forward warily, and he watched them with an impassive expression. Giving Bruce one more quick, sideways glance, he saw that realization had replaced the confusion in the doctor's eyes, but he still seemed uncertain even with the second pistol in hand.

As soon as they were within reach, Clint leaped onto the back of one of the guards, grabbing his gun and flipping him over while four more shots rang out courtesy of Bruce. Two of them collapsed, either dead or on a track to being that way, while the other just let out a short yell, bullet wound in his right hip. The fourth bullet had narrowly missed Clint himself, who cast a quick_ 'what the heck'_ look at Bruce before returning his attention to the guards.

Clint quickly finished the job with the man that had taken the shot to the hip, and used the still struggling guard he'd pulled over basically on top of him as a shield, before he used his newly stolen gun to thin out the guard's ranks. Clint gave a shake of his head as he realized none of them had any sympathy for their comrade he was holding, bullets tearing into that man with the hope that they would go completely through and strike him as well.

In what was probably a stroke of luck for him, none of them did. Not wanting to chance fate any more than he had to, in the first lull of firing after he'd emptied his pistol, Clint pushed the now dead body off him and rolled around the corner, hissing in pain when he felt a bullet dig a graze across the small of his back.

"Clint!" Bruce said, concern and worry dominating his voice as the archer stood, a scowl on his face.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." he hissed, bunching up the back of his shirt and holding it to the graze, hiding any pain from his face quickly.

"Before we're dragged off and separated, let me look at it." the doctor said hurriedly and Clint gave him a sharp glance but nodded and Bruce stood and quickly approached, moving his shirt.

"It's maybe a half inch deep, missed any vertebrae, but there are a bunch of nerves there, so it's going to hurt." Bruce said, his tone once again calm as he pressed the edges of the shirt back to the wound and replaced his hands with Clint's, trying to ignore the blood that now stained his hands.

"Well, at least I can say I've had it looked at by a doctor." the archer deadpanned, narrowing his eyes as Ross' voice came from around the corner.

"If you're done putting off the inevitable," the former general started, though there was some unidentifiable emotion in his voice that Clint thought might have to do with all the dead bodies. "It's really too early to need either of you dead. So why don't you toss out Banner's gun and we'll get this over with?"

"The fact that it's only 'too early' to kill us is a cooperation killer." Clint spat back, before turning to Bruce, making sure his voice was loud enough to carry to Ross. "Sounds like he's bargaining, doesn't it Bruce? I don't think he took me seriously."

He gave the doctor a small smirk, though he could see in Bruce's eyes that he knew they were both out of options, at least for now.

Sure, Clint could still fight, but all it'd accomplish would be to get the archer killed.

Silently, Bruce passed him the remaining pistol and Clint sighed while taking it, now unable to meet the doctor's gaze.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly, giving his head a slight shake.

"Clint, this definitely _isn't_ your fault." Bruce said firmly, though there was a tremor to his voice that the archer didn't miss.

It made him furious at multiple people, one of which being himself. After all, hadn't he promised the man that he'd get him out? That he wouldn't let him be hurt?

Quickly masking his emotions, the assassin growled quietly to himself before tossing the gun down the hallway, watching as it skittered to a stop where Ross would easily be able to see it.

"Do _not_ get yourself killed." Bruce told him severely and Clint cast a quick look at him, eyebrow raised and both of them ignoring the now slowly approaching footsteps and Ross' dark chuckle. "I mean it."

"We've got to work on your aim when we get out of here." Clint said easily, eyes narrowing and scowl forming on his face when four guards edged around the corner. He knew that by telling him not to get himself killed, Bruce was telling him to stop fighting. And despite that doing so went against every single instinct he had, he also knew that Bruce's own self defense system wasn't working properly.

They'd never gone around and tested whether or not a gunshot would hurt the man when he wasn't able to Hulk out, after all, and Clint had absolutely no desire to test it himself.

So, he simply watched as the men came forward, focused only on him. They were obviously wary and cautious, almost waiting for the archer to strike out.

When he didn't, even once they were well within range, they seemed to gain much more confidence, quickly grabbing his arms and slamming him forcefully to his knees. Clint didn't even react, pushing down the stabbing pain that emanated from the wound across his back. He couldn't help a slight grimace, however, when the handcuffs they were forcing around his wrists scratched across the bullet graze, making it throb worse, pain shooting through his entire back. He let out a long breath, body tensing only slightly when the barrel of a pistol was then put to the back of his head, a pair of hands on each of his shoulders, keeping him down.

Bruce had seen a lot of scary things in his life. Somewhere near the top of that list was Clint Barton on his knees with a gun to his head. The fact that he knew the only reason it had happened was because the archer knew he wouldn't be able to fight off the remaining guards as well as keep _him_ safe was nearly enough to make him sick. Clint could've gotten out of the building by himself without a problem, probably through the air ducts, but instead he had done all he could to help him.

He froze and was jolted out of his thoughts when Ross then turned the corner as well, wearing a triumphant expression and a smirk.

Bruce felt his eyes narrow into a glare, reaching past the haze of the sedative he was under for the Other Guy. It wasn't often that he physically wanted a change, and recently it had only ever been when the team needed him for a mission. But now, he felt he owed it to Clint to at least try for plan B.

The Other Guy clearly was not happy with the drugs being used to keep him suppressed, but he still couldn't get through, despite the furious struggles that were the root of Bruce's headache.

After looking over Clint's position, Ross' eyes turned to him and almost immediately narrowed.

"Well, Dr. Banner, it looks like you're in need of another dose of tranquilizers." the older man said lightly, coming forward and pulling a syringe out of his pocket.

Bruce sucked in a breath and took an instinctive step back; feeling the familiar fear course through him that always seemed to accompany this man's presence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clint stiffen and begin to struggle; only pausing when the guard standing in front of him lashed out with a sharp kick to the archer's stomach.

"Leave him the hell alone, Ross." Clint bit out, sounding somewhat short of breath.

Bruce's eyes narrowed again, fists clenching at his sides. Ross ignored the archer's words, now close enough to the frozen doctor to reach out with the syringe.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Bruce was taking another step back from Ross, but this time only so he could wind back and slam his fist straight into the former general's face.

There was the sound of snapping bone along with impact, and Ross stumbled back, eyes widened in shock and dropping the syringe as his hands flew to his now freely bleeding nose. Bruce, too, was initially shocked by what he'd done, but then he just smirked, shaking out his hand.

"It's been a long time since I've been able to do that." he commented idly, knowing the truth behind his own words. No matter how much he wanted to punch someone, he typically wasn't angry enough to want to risk the person's life, or the surrounding buildings. "Although, I don't think I'd mind punching you even if it did risk the Other Guy."

His smirk widened when Clint threw back his head and laughed, though surprise colored the sound. He was aware that the man standing in front of Clint had pulled his pistol again, this time directing it at him. It worried him, yes, but what worried him more was the fact that Ross was regaining his feet and retrieving the fallen syringe.

"That was a mistake, Banner." the former general said furiously, waving his hand for the guard in front of Clint to come forward as well.

Within moments, the guard had grabbed Bruce's arms and held them firmly behind him despite his struggles as Ross slid the needle into the doctor's neck and gave him the dose of the tranquilizer.

Bruce couldn't help a low moan as the drug took effect, his limbs tingling as they fell limp and heavy. Slowly, the fog returned to his mind as well, though he didn't slip fully into unconsciousness.

Vaguely, he heard Clint's voice, and then Ross' frustrated retort but he couldn't quite make out the words. The next thing he became aware of was being dragged forward, back down the hallway he and Clint had followed. He felt fear surge through him unbidden when after a few long minutes he recognized the room he'd been in before. He gave a string of weakened struggles, but even so he felt the restraints wrap around his wrists and ankles as soon as he was back on the table.

He fell still then, closing his eyes against the bright lights above him.

What scared him now, was that after their failed escape attempt, Ross would make sure that there was no possibility of it happening again. He'd seen what Clint was capable of, and wouldn't allow for the assassin to be underestimated again like he had been initially.

The doctor didn't want to know how he was planning to keep the archer controlled.

And in addition to that, there was the matter of what was going to be done to _him_. Ross was obviously giving another go at recreating his condition, despite how horribly badly it had ended the last time. He didn't doubt that when the former general was done, he would also find a slow, painful way to kill him, or if that didn't work, shove him in a cage somewhere that no one would ever find him.

It seemed that the only hope he and Clint had, was the team finding them.

* * *

"We're never _ever_ going to see a movie again." Tony vowed under his breath as the entire team waited otherwise silently in the SHIELD briefing room on the helicarrier.

It had been six hours since Natasha had gone to check what was taking her partner and Bruce so long to get popcorn as the movie started, only to find multiple dead bodies strewn across the lobby and a distinct absence of the other two Avengers.

SHIELD had instantly been called and despite everyone's vehement protests, the remaining team members had been brought back to the helicarrier while other agents continued the investigation and clean up.

Since then, they'd seen security camera footage of what had happened, but all that had served to do was make every single one of them vow to at some point get their hands on Ross, Tony claiming the top spot on the list. After anything Clint and Bruce wanted to do to him if they were in a condition to when they were rescued.

Natasha had remained stoically silent the entire time, her eyes burning with a fury that none of them had seen before, and was slightly worrying. They all knew though, that you didn't touch the Hawk without attracting the worst kind of attention from the Widow. Or vice versa.

"We shouldn't be _sitting_ here." Tony continued speaking, tapping his foot anxiously. He seemed to be the only one interested in conversation, even Thor's eyes narrowed in thought. "I mean, seriously, who the hell knows what Ross is doing to Bruce, or what he wants with Barton in the first place?"

"Director Fury said he'd let us know when they got any solid leads." Steve reminded patiently, even if there was a frown on his own face.

"Screw Fury." Tony spat, his eyes flashing as Thor looked up to them finally. "He's the reason we're dealing with this situation in the first place. He's the one that lost Ross, and didn't let us take the bastard out when this whole thing started."

"It's not like he did it on purpose, Tony." Steve said, his tone losing a bit of its patience. "Besides, you've already got JARVIS looking for anything, don't you?"

"Yes, but..." Tony faltered, a scowl forming on his face. "Don't tell me you're happy just sitting here, Capsicle."

"No, but the Director asked us to stay put. So we're staying put." Steve rubbed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"Yeah... no." Tony vaulted quickly to his feet, turning to the door with a determined expression. "Point Break, Romanoff, you with me?"

Thor paused, opening his mouth to speak, but Natasha just rose fluidly to her feet, features hardened and still silent as she stalked over to Tony. Her actions spoke louder than any words.

Before Thor could speak, the door slid open, making Tony take a step back in surprise.

"Stark, Romanoff, get back in your damn seats." Fury said shortly as he entered the room, ever-present file in hand.

"What is this, elementary school?" Tony protested, eyes narrowing at the older man.

"Fine, Stark, if you don't want to hear what we've found, you can leave." the SHIELD director said simply and Tony stiffened, narrowing his eyes again.

Natasha stayed standing near the door, even as the billionaire plopped back into his seat, and Fury didn't even seem to expect her to, beginning to speak as soon as Tony had retaken his seat.

"We've found out that Ross didn't hire the men he had with him." the older man said matter of factly, opening the file he'd brought with him and laying it face up in the middle of the table.

There was a picture of a dark-haired middle aged man of maybe about thirty-five looking up at them, Fury moving to explain as they examined it.

"This is Victor Simmons." he said, watching as the team sat back to take in the information, though Natasha was still standing stiffly. "We believe he _hired_ Ross, for all the experience he had with Banner. We've had to keep Simmons off Banner's trail once before, about two years ago. We think he wants to create a sort of army with people with a condition like Banner's, and is using Ross to help him create the formula."

"And what would he want with Clint?" Steve asked, his voice calm but almost sickened.

"That we don't know." Fury sighed, closing the file. "But we're making progress. We're trying to track down anywhere Simmons could be keeping them. We're working as quickly as we can."

"We should be helping with the search." it was Thor that spoke up next and Fury stared at him for a few moments before he gave a short nod.

"Alright then. Get suited up, we could use you all in the field."

Thankful to be able to finally do something, they all made for the door, Natasha the first one out.

* * *

**Alright, people, there you go. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have feedback/questions for me, please leave a review!  
~Dogstar**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, everybody, here's the new chapter! I'm sorry for the extended wait, but I was out of town for the weekend, and I got this out to you as soon as I could. I want to thank everyone for the reviews (That I am in the process of trying to reply to) and the alerts and favorites. I'm just thrilled you all seem to be liking it.**

**I'm kind of surprised that I didn't get more of a response to Bruce punching Ross, though. ^_^ I am very happy with all of your reviews though, so keep them coming! I_ want _your feedback.**

**Please enjoy this chapter.**

**As always, I own nothing.**

* * *

Clint scowled furiously as he was pulled roughly to his feet and more or less shoved down the hallway after Bruce had already been dragged away. He still had one guard on either side of him, as well as one behind him holding the gun to the back of his head. The handcuffs restraining him had been tightened to the point where they cut painfully into his wrists, not that he was surprised.

He was also aware that Ross was following behind him and his entourage, which he could only take as a good thing. If Ross was with him, he wasn't with Bruce. And maybe, that meant that the doctor wasn't being hurt or poked or prodded.

He didn't make a sound despite the waves of pain that came from the bullet graze across his back when he was slammed back into the chair in the room he'd escaped from earlier.

The body and still unconscious guard had been removed, while Clint's arms had been yanked over the top of the back of the chair and then secured by his wrists to the other side. The position tweaked both of his shoulders but he showed none of his discomfort on his face, instead expressing a mask of indifference, looking up to Ross.

The former general had stood back beside the door, arms crossed over his chest with a positively gleeful expression on his face as he watched the two remaining guards in the room secure Clint to the chair.

Once the assassin's arms, as well as his ankles had been restrained, they stepped back and Ross stepped forward, giving his head a slight shake.

"I'll admit, I underestimated you." he said lightly and Clint scoffed, giving a roll of his eyes.

"You think? Let's see, what was my body count? One from here, two from the hallway, three more from around the corner, two from emptying my first gun, then Bruce got three too, and I emptied another pistol, so that's eight... Total of what, sixteen? Not including the ones Bruce dropped. So yeah, you dumb ass, I think you underestimated the highly trained assassin." Clint said mockingly, eyes narrowing as his chin rose.

Ross' eyes narrowed angrily, giving an almost invisible signal to one of the guards at Clint's side. The archer noticed the motion and braced himself for the blow he knew was coming, and showing almost no reaction once the closed fist slammed into his stomach. In fact, all he did was give the former general a cocky smirk, pushing down the pain that stemmed from the hit.

"Come on, that it?" he taunted, raising an eyebrow as Ross' own almost seemed to twitch. "Hey, can I make a guess as to why I'm actually here? You're all peeved because of the whole 'fired from the Army' thing, aren't you?"

Ross' jaw visibly clenched, and Clint grinned, even as both guards began using him as a punching bag.

All through the beating, the archer gave no audible or visible clues to the pain he was in, keeping his breathing as even as possible. Even so, he was sure that at least a few ribs had been cracked or broken, sending sharp, shooting pain through his chest with every breath he took. His right shoulder was dangerously close to being dislocated, and his jaw ached from the solid punch that had been delivered to it.

When the men finally stepped back, Clint gave his head a quick shake and quickly realized that had been a horrible idea when he nearly threw up, and the waves of pain from his worsened concussion made his vision swim.

"See, this is what I'm talking about." he started a few moments later, looking up to Ross again and stubbornly meeting his gaze. "_You_ are the one that's pissed at me, and yet, you have yet to even take a swing at me yourself. I'd be insulted if I didn't think you were just a damn coward."

"You don't know when to shut up, do you?" Ross asked condescendingly and Clint just gave a snort, trying to move himself into a more comfortable position and instantly freezing and biting his cheek to keep from making a sound when he accidentally pulled on his shoulder and pain shot through the limb like fire.

"Nah." the archer gave an admittedly strained smirk, his eyes dull. "Especially not when I can do something fun like piss you all the hell off. For example, I have to say I think your nose looks better broken. Bruce definitely did you a favor there."

Ross growled and Clint relaxed back into his chair carefully, adopting an expression that hinted that he was exactly where he wanted to be. He knew that his nonchalant attitude would just serve to enrage the former general. He understood how men with his type of personality worked, and it was his goal to keep the man with him and away from Bruce for as long as he could, despite the repercussions to himself.

"And I hope you're well prepared for the rain of holy hell that is going to be brought down on your ass." Clint continued, watching the emotions flicker across Ross' expression, confusion, fury and haughty disbelief being a few. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, you've only got two of six Avengers here. The other four are going to be _pissed_, and none of them are light weights. They will find us, they will come, and they will kill you and everyone else here." Clint's voice lowered and darkened, matter of fact certainty entering his tone.

The guards on either side of him shifted uncomfortably, but the archer didn't spare them a bit of attention, his eyes locked on Ross'.

"I think you have too much faith in your friends." Ross spat out the word 'friends' as if it was a curse, but Clint's expression didn't change. "And I certainly hope you don't think you'll get another chance at your own escape."

Clint didn't respond, his eyes narrowing slightly as his thoughts moved over to a mess of 'what if's that didn't bode well for either him or Bruce.

Ross must have seen something of the change in the archer's attitude, because he gave a dark smirk of his own.

"The tables have turned, Hawkeye." the former general said condescendingly, and Clint gave a roll of his eyes, cutting the older man a sharp glare.

"Coming from a coward like you, forgive me for not trembling with fear." the assassin all but sneered, eyes flashing when Ross turned slowly back towards him, his anger visible in every line of his body.

Before either of them could speak again, the door to the room opened, a middle-aged dark haired man entering with a slightly bemused expression.

"Mr. Ross, I would ask you to ignore the man." the newcomer said as almost a sigh, casting a considering glance over Clint's bound, and now obviously uneasy form. "He's simply trying to anger to the point of spending more time here, in an effort, I think, to keep you from Dr. Banner."

Clint frowned, before swiftly wiping his face of any expression not knowing who this man was, or how he had been able to realize his intentions so easily. The face was somewhat familiar, one he had seen from a SHIELD file, but he couldn't quite recall the who or why.

"It's commendable, but we could use your help with some more tests on the formula." the man continued, and Clint gave a jolt of recognition at the word 'formula'.

This man had featured in Bruce's more classified SHIELD file, from an incident two years ago when a team of agents had been dispatched to keep the man off the doctor's trail. He'd been interested in recreating the formula of radiation hidden in Banner's blood.

"Simmons." Clint said matter of factly, his eyes narrowing when the man looked up in recognition. "Well, that's where I recognize _you_ from. SHIELD has had to keep you off Bruce before."

"I'm impressed." Simmons said lightly, turning more to face Clint himself, his head tilted to the side slightly as if interested. "Your skills certainly live up to your reputation, Hawkeye."

"Did you catch the, oh, about twenty dead bodies strewn across the place?" Clint asked with another smirk, relaxing slightly. He knew SHIELD still had eyes on this man, which gave them a much better chance of being found.

"I did, though I have to say I wouldn't encourage that behavior." Simmons said, his eyes hardening but not giving away any sort of emotion. "You might not like the repercussions."

"Trust me, I don't care what you do to me, I've been through worse." Clint deadpanned, eyes narrowing. "And you can also be damn well sure that the moment I get the chance I will take pleasure in taking out whoever I can get my hands on. Yourself included."

"I admire your perseverance, especially in light of your injuries, but I don't think you would be so…_ enthusiastic_… if it was not you that suffered the repercussions of your actions, but Dr. Banner instead." Simmons actually gave a smirk of his own with his words.

Clint froze, feeling anger boil through him, pushing away the constant throbbing and aching pain in favor of stiffening and instantly moving his hands to the metal around his wrists, giving a few fruitless struggles. He remained stubbornly silent though, his eyes burning with fury that was directed at Simmons. He already knew though, that he would never be able to bring himself to make another move, unless it was guaranteed to get Bruce out. He couldn't be responsible for causing them to hurt Bruce, no more than he would be able to physically hurt the doctor himself.

"Maybe that's what it takes to clip a Hawk's wings." Simmons mused, his own eyes glittering with malice, before he turned to Ross, leaving his threat hanging open in the air. "We have a few more tests to run in the lab before we take them to Banner himself. I want this taken care of quickly."

Both men turned to leave the room, leaving the two guards beside the assassin. Clint watched them go, a long, loud sigh leaving his body as he all but fell back limply into the chair, allowing a small wince to cross his face when the action put pressure on the wound across his back.

Hours seemed to pass, the guards as silent as ever, and Clint not in the mood to start another bout of mocking banter. Instead, he thought back to everything he'd ever heard or read about Simmons, which unfortunately wasn't much.

All he knew was what had been in Bruce's file when Coulson had read him into the Avengers Initiative, which was that Simmons had spent a lot of time, money and effort trying to track the doctor down, probably about two years ago now. SHIELD had sent a team to make sure that the man didn't get within 500 miles of Bruce, as well as get rid of any information the man had compiled about the research and incident that had led up to the creation of the Hulk. Apparently, Simmons had worked past that set back and was still _very_ interested.

* * *

He only glanced up again when the door opened, Ross stepping back through with a vicious smirk on his face. The sight made Clint stiffen, despite the fact that all it did was make his whole upper body throb worse.

The man didn't speak, though he gave a nod to the two men flanking the archer, who then quickly moved to release him from the chair.

Within minutes, Clint was standing between them, hands still sharply pulled behind him. His chest and shoulder had flared with pain the second he was forced up, but all he allowed himself was a quiet hiss.

Even that was enough to make Ross' smirk widen, and consequently Clint's eyes narrow into a glare.

"Perverted bastard, aren't you?" the archer commented mildly, his own grin forming when Ross' expression morphed into a scowl.

"Let's see how cocky you are when you get a taste of the wrong side of Banner's temper." Ross growled and Clint felt his eyes widen.

"What did you do?" the assassin demanded as his two guards forced him to follow the former general out of the room and down the hallway.

"We needed to run some tests on the monster. Don't worry, it's contained, but it's certainly not happy. I wouldn't want to deny you time with your friend." Ross told him lightly, and Clint couldn't help a quiet muttered curse.

Under normal circumstances, he wasn't afraid of the Hulk. The Big Guy liked him, knew him as a member of the team and had even saved him a time or two. But under these circumstances, with Ross, and the drugs and how terrified Bruce had to be, he didn't know if the familiarity would be enough.

The loud, bone-rattling roars became audible as they continued, and Clint recognized the Hulk's furious voice behind them. Ross led him into what was probably a viewing room, what looked to be one-way reinforced glass making up one wall, while the other long wall was a mess of beeping and flashing machines manned by a small handful of people.

They all looked up when Ross, Clint and the two guards entered, but the archer paid them no attention, his eyes turning to the Hulk's massive form that was currently trying to beat his way through one of the walls to the room he was in that was roughly the size of half a football field, with a thirty foot ceiling.

"We're very safe in here, there's no spot in the room that hasn't been reinforced to deal with its strength." Ross explained, his tone almost mocking.

Clint didn't respond, relaxing himself quickly. If Ross was going to put him into that room, he couldn't seem even the least bit wary if he wanted to keep all of his limbs attached. Besides, Bruce would never, ever forgive himself if the Big Guy ended up killing him, so he was just going to have to be sure it didn't happen.

"How does it feel to know you're going to be killed by the very thing you were trying to protect?" Ross asked, but Clint just gave him a slight glare.

"He is not a thing." he said matter of factly, making Ross raise an eyebrow at him. "And I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but he's not going to kill me."

The former general cast one speculative look at the raging monster in the room that was currently letting out another frustrated roar that physically shook the one-way glass before looking back to Clint.

"At least you'll die optimistic." he said dryly, before walking over to a control panel and hitting a button that made a small narrow door only a few feet in front of Clint open a slight bit.

The assassin's two guards gave him a rough shove through the door, and his ribs screamed out in protest as he rolled into the room to keep from falling onto his face, wrists still tightly handcuffed behind him.

He heard the Hulk give a furious snarl as he slowly looked up and stood from his crouch. As soon as he was noticed, the huge, green form launched himself at the archer, landing only a few feet in front of him and giving a menacing growl, emerald eyes flashing dangerously.

"Hey Big Guy." Clint said lightly, keeping his body relaxed and as non-threatening as he could manage with his wrists still cuffed and his ribs, shoulder and back giving him constant, painful protests.

The Hulk bared his teeth in another snarl, before his head cocked to the side and he too almost seemed to relax slightly.

"Cupid." he grunted, his tone not questioning who he was, but more why he was there.

Clint gave a grin and a nod. The Big Guy had nicknames for everyone on the team. He was Cupid, courtesy of a stray comment from Tony during a battle. Stark himself was Metal Man, Thor was Hammer, Natasha was Red, and Steve was simply Cap. It also helped that he was second or third on the list of people that Hulk actually liked.

"Yeah, buddy. Looks like me and you are in some deep shit, huh?" he asked, only to take a small step back when the anger returned to the jaded eyes looming over him.

"Ross hurt Bruce. Hurt Hulk." he snarled, fists clenching angrily, before he turned to Clint eyes narrowing, but not in anger. "Cupid hurt?"

"Yeah, a little bit." Clint hedged with a nod, before turning slightly so that Hulk could see the handcuffs binding him. "Think you could give me a hand, Big Guy?"

The massive hand that then reached for his wrists was surprisingly gentle, snapping the chain between the cuffs with ease, and then working to get the metal bracelets themselves off without crushing the archer's much smaller hands.

"Thanks." Clint said sincerely, letting his relief color his tone, even as he sent an 'I-told-you-so' smirk through what he knew to be one-way glass.

He could only imagine the horrified disbelief on Ross' face at this moment, watching as he held what amounted to a basic conversation to what the former general believed was nothing but a rage-fueled monster.

The Big Guy grunted a few moments later and Clint felt the last of the cuffs fall away from his wrists and he slowly brought his arms forward, well aware of the green eyes watching intently as he hissed when his right shoulder moved and he got a look at his bloodied wrists.

"Cupid bleeding." Hulk grunted as he sat heavily in front of Clint, expression actually concerned as his eyes flicked to the archer's wrists, and then his back. "Bruce help?"

By now, the Big Guy was well used to the fact that Bruce acted as their medic when they were in the field and didn't have access to SHIELD medics. It made sense that he would ask if the doctor could help him now as well.

"No," Clint shook his head, knowing that Ross had a hell of an easier time controlling Bruce than he did Hulk. "Why don't you just stay with me for now, alright? Could you do me a favor and tell Bruce that I'm alright? I don't want him to be worried."

Hulk gave a grunt of agreement before his eyes narrowed as the door clicked open again. Clint turned sharply as well, glaring as a team of four guards edged cautiously into the room. Maybe Ross had been stupid enough to think that Hulk wouldn't attack anyone, and wanted to test that thought. Either way, he'd just sent four men to their deaths.

He raised both his hands in a motion to signify that he didn't have anything to do with them when the Big Guy's questioning glance turned to him. In the next moment, the green giant had launched himself with amazing speed at the guards, knocking them in multiple directions and slamming the door shut before any more could enter. He then took to smashing the guards thoroughly to make sure they wouldn't be getting up again before he gently pulled Clint closer as he sat directly in front of the door, preventing it from being opened.

Clint laughed at the action, which made Hulk bare his teeth in a smirk too, giving a huff of satisfaction.

"Ross no hurt Cupid." he said matter of factly and Clint nodded.

"Thanks, buddy." he said, settling himself down in a sitting position as well, ignoring the stabbing pain from his ribs. He knew that there had to be another way into the room somewhere, and that eventually Ross and Simmons would find a way to get Hulk drugged again and shrunk down to Bruce, but he liked to think just for a minute or two that they were safe.

"Why Cupid here?" Hulk asked after a few moments, his head tilted to the side curiously.

"Well, Ross is angry at me because I was trying to protect you and Bruce, and he thought that if he put me in here with you that you would kill me." Clint said truthfully, noticing how the giant snarled at the mere mention of Ross.

"Hulk no hurt Cupid." he grunted, giving a shake of his head that looked almost comical. "Cupid like Hulk; Hulk like Cupid."

"Exactly." Clint smirked, patting the Big Guy's knee, which was the easiest thing to reach, reassuringly. "See, Ross is a dumb ass. He doesn't understand… well, anything really."

Hulk gave a snort of amused agreement, before he cocked his head to the side again.

"Metal Man?" he asked hopefully, but Clint just sighed and shook his head.

"The others are looking for us, Big Guy, but they haven't found us yet." the archer explained, and found himself agreeing with Hulk's dissatisfied grunt.

It made sense that the Big Guy would ask about Tony first. The billionaire and the massive green embodiment of Bruce's temper had always gotten along the best, even before the rest of the team had trusted him. Clint had been the third person that Hulk actually acknowledged, right after the Captain. It had taken the archer a few seconds at most to understand that there was more to Bruce's alter ego than just an ever-furious monster.

He did, however, think that this was the longest conversation anyone had had with him.

"How's Bruce doing?" Clint asked after a minute or two of silence, finally acknowledging the worry that had settled into the pit of his stomach after Simmons' threat. He had to make sure that the doctor hadn't been hurt because of something he had done.

"Scared." Hulk grunted, sounding unhappy with his statement. "No like drugs, no like tests."

"You tell him to just hang in there alright?" Clint prompted, scowling when he noticed a flash of movement from above them. A formerly hidden catwalk had descended from the ceiling, and Clint could see a guard slowly moving across it in the shadows. "Hey, Big Guy." he pointed a finger up when Hulk looked to him, giving a smirk and covering his ears when the giant let out another ear-splitting roar and leapt for the catwalk and the guard on it.

Clint was forced to move when pieces of debris started falling, the catwalk evidently _not_ Hulk-proofed. He frowned when only moments later, Hulk fell to the ground as well, letting out quieter, incoherent snarls as he slowly began shrinking back down into Bruce. The archer was confused for a moment, before he noticed the grouping of darts that now littered the doctor's back.

Within a few moments, he was at Bruce's side and removing the darts, even though he knew they had already taken effect and left the doctor unconscious.

He turned slightly at the sound of the door opening, glaring as Ross, Simmons and a handful of guards entered. Without even thinking about it, he took a protective stance in front of Bruce, pushing down his own pain with the ease of practice. Sure, his injuries were painful, but they weren't bad enough to keep him from being able to fight back.

"Hawkeye, I ask that you remember my earlier words before you do something rash." Simmons said calmly, and Clint growled but forced himself to relax, though he didn't move out from in front of Bruce.

"I'm not above an 'I told you so'." the archer directed his words at Ross, his tone almost smug despite the situation.

Above anything else in the world, Clint Barton hated feeling helpless. He made a point to do everything in his power to keep control of whatever situation he was in, and seeing as he'd lived this long as an assassin, he was pretty good at it. But right now, even though his every instinct screamed at him to put down the five guards before moving on to Ross and Simmons, he couldn't shake the fear that he would get Bruce hurt. And knowing that the older man trusted him wouldn't allow him to make a single move against the guards.

Trust was a fleeting, rare thing in his eyes, in the forms of both giving it, and receiving it. The fact that he was an assassin alone sparked distrust in the eyes of many, even at SHIELD, and the incident with Loki had only proved to deepen that distrust to the point where he couldn't walk through a base without being constantly stared at like he was going to snap at any moment and kill them all. The team, however, had given him their trust the moment they let him watch their backs from above, and that had translated to a trust off the battlefield as well. And in return, in only a few short months they had earned his as well, breaking through the walls of cold, unapproachable indifference he had around himself. Neither he nor Natasha could explain it, seeing as the same thing had happened with the red-headed assassin too, but they couldn't find it in them to be unhappy about the situation.

So, for that reason, Clint once again didn't move as he allowed the guards to force his arms behind him and bind his wrists, hissing as the rough action made new blood flow from the lacerations from the cuffs they'd used before.

"Get Banner back to the lab." Simmons ordered of the other three guards, while the remaining two held Clint firmly between them.

The archer felt his blood boil again, but he didn't so much as move, instead running through the satisfying mental images of all the ways he could kill the two men holding him, even with his hands bound behind him. It occurred to him that it wasn't helping him keep calm very well, but the vicious satisfaction that he _could_ flowed though him, followed quickly by the guilt that he _didn't_ as he watched Bruce's limp form being dragged away again.

He just couldn't win in this situation, even in his own head.

He was pulled out of his own thoughts when he was shoved to his knees, one of the guards' boots coming up and catching him full in the chest, making his ribs ignite into a blazing wave of agony. The only recognition he outwardly gave the blow was a quiet grunt, his eyes closing tightly for a few moments before he glared up at Ross and Simmons.

"Can a guy get a little warning next time?" he growled, but neither man looked amused.

"How did you do that?" Ross demanded, obviously furious, but Clint just gave a grim smirk. "How did it not kill you?"

"You heard him. 'Hulk no hurt Cupid'." the archer said as if it was obvious, causing another kick to be directed at his stomach this time. He took a few moments to recover his breath before he continued. "You bastards just don't get it. I'm not afraid of him; I don't need to be."

Ross and Simmons shared a glance, and Clint gave a snort.

Out the corner of his eye he saw another boot flying toward his chest and he instantly acted to protect himself, knowing that the more his ribs were hit, the worse they would shatter and the greater the chance of them puncturing some vital organ.

He rolled to support himself on his bound hands, catching the leg attached to the boot with his own legs and using them to flip the guard onto his back, knocking the air out of him. In half a second, before anyone else could react, Clint had moved to position himself over he guard, knee resting on the man's throat where it could easily be used to crush his windpipe with only one, quick motion.

He hesitated though, his eyes narrowing as he cursed to himself and looked up to Simmons and the other guard pulled his pistol.

The dark haired man wore a knowing smirk, eyes dancing with amusement. Clint scowled, hating the fact that he was being forced to play by his captors' rules.

Even so, he stood fluidly, backing away from the guard he had had dead to rights. The actions themselves had been instinctual, even if he was pretty sure he had sprained his left wrist in the process seeing as he had put no weight on his right arm due to his injured shoulder.

"So the Hawk can be tamed. Good to know." Simmons said mildly and Clint scowled at him, narrowing his eyes but not bothering to fight again, watching as the guard scrambled to his feet, one hand on his right hip and the other on his throat, eyes wide with shock.

The second guard approached and grabbed Clint's arm again, holding his pistol to his head in a threatening motion.

They all froze, however, when there was a huge thunder clap that practically shook the entire building, Clint's eyes turning to the ceiling as a vicious smirk formed slowly on his face.

"I'm _still_ not above an 'I-told-you-so', Ross." he said coolly, a muted, relieved shine to his eyes that none of these men would be able to pick up on.

"A thunder storm, that's all." Simmons blew off his comment, though Ross had become distinctly uneasy, looking around himself.

"If you hadn't pissed off the Asgardian god of thunder, that'd be a bit more believable." Clint pointed out, readying his body to spring as he recognized the muffled sound of Iron Man's repulsors blowing a part of the building. "And that'd be the billionaire genius in the metal suit."

Simmons quickly tried his radio, staring at it with an unreadable expression when he got nothing but static. Clint just gave a low chuckle.

Letting out a long breath and embracing the adrenaline that shot through his system at the thought of rescue, the archer ducked down out of the range of the gun pointed at his head, picking up his foot to deliver a sharp kick to the thigh of the guard that caused his leg to collapse on itself. Another spinning kick had the man's windpipe crushed, and he rolled just in time to avoid the second guard's attack.

Clint spat out a curse when he stumbled when he tried to return to his feet, his chest, back and shoulder flaring with pain. As a result, the guard caught his arm and flipped him onto his stomach, knocking the air out of him in one loud huff. Clint narrowed his eyes as he fought to regain his breath, struggling when he felt something wrap around his ankles.

Closing his eyes tightly against the agony that ripped through his torso, he bucked his legs to unbalance the guard before rolling over, pinning the man beneath him long enough to awkwardly drive his elbow into the other man's spine, giving a grim snort when he heard the vertebrae snap beneath him. Luck alone had landed the guard on his stomach when he had rolled, but now, even if he wasn't dead he wouldn't be moving.

Rolling into a sitting position, Clint couldn't help a short gasp of pain from the way his ribs moved in his chest. He could feel a sticky wetness beneath his bound hands, so he also knew that the bullet graze had been ripped open and was bleeding again. He scowled though, when he realized that Simmons and Ross had left the room, and closed the door behind them.

_'I guess, Hawkeye, that I will just have to use you as leverage against your friends.'_

Clint stiffened when Simmons' voice came over a speaker, his eyes narrowing at the words.

_'After all, you don't think that I wouldn't have a fail-safe to destroy the beast that was meant to be in that room in case of an emergency, do you? All I have to do is push a button and you will be reduced to ash.'_

The archer let out a long breath but forced himself to relax, working at his bonds instead of dwelling on his situation. As long as the team got Bruce out, he was fine with it. After all, dealing with him had given Ross and Simmons at least some distraction instead of having been able to go straight to Bruce at the onslaught of the attack. That would have given them time to work with, that would maybe save him as well. After all, he didn't doubt that Natasha's only objective in the rescue would be to find him, despite anything Steve said.

The Captain may be their unofficial/somewhat-official leader, but Natasha would point-blank tell him what she was going to be doing if he was threatened. They were partners for years before they were Avengers, despite the strong bonds they'd formed with the rest of the team; he would do the same for her without hesitation.

But maybe, if he could get himself loose, he could hunt down another way out of the room for himself.

* * *

**So, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I don't really know if I count that as a cliff hanger, but if you do, rest assured that the next chapter will be out shortly. Please keep sending in your reviews with your feedback, they make me so happy!  
~Dogstar**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again everyone! Welcome to the 5th chapter. Again, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited or alerted this story. The numbers are astronomical and I'm still kind of in shock.**

**Anyway, so there's one more chapter after this one, and then I'm going to be putting up an extra/deleted scene type of thing that gives a view into Ross' reaction to Clint's actions, mostly during the scene with the Hulk. That's the general plan, anyway.**

**I'm just going to go ahead and give an apology if the few Russian sentences in this chapter are wrong in anyway. I got them off an online translator, and those aren't always the most reliable.**

**And just as a fair warning, this is the longest chapter so far. I hope you enjoy it.**

**As always, I own nothing.**

* * *

As Bruce slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he became aware of was the fact that he was once again strapped back down to the cold metal table, his limbs heavy and immobile. The second thing he became aware of was the fiery, burning pain that was searing through his veins.

Something about the drug that had been shot into the Other Guy must have been different, because that pain was definitely new and completely unwelcome.

He remembered the change easily, it was what came after that was fuzzy. One thing he was sure of, however, was the fact that Clint had been with the Other Guy, and the big, green rage monster that he became hadn't hurt the archer.

In fact, the Other Guy had even communicated a message to him, telling him not to be worried about Clint's safety, probably having come from Clint himself. He could remember bits and pieces about what the Other Guy had been feeling, though, and he remembered that concern and protectiveness, of all things, had been running through his mind.

He wasn't sure whether to be more relieved that the Other Guy not only protected Clint, but had helped him as well, or more worried that something had been wrong enough about the archer to evoke those reactions.

He gave what was probably a barely audible gasp and his eyes shot open as the fire in his veins intensified. Looking around himself blearily, however, he saw no one. At least that was a welcome change from the team of scientists that had been poking, and prodding, and testing him before.

He was about to allow himself to drift back into unconsciousness, for no other reason than to be able to get away from the pain from a little longer, when a muffled crash from outside his room had him frowning and turning his head slightly. Not that the drugs allowed for much movement ever since Ross had had the dosage pumping through the IV's in his arms upped after his and Clint's failed escape attempt.

He wondered idly if the crashing had anything to do with plan E. Seeing as plan D, letting themselves be caught by the guards and Ross again, hadn't yielded anything good.

At least it calmed his worries by letting him believe Clint was even in a condition to be making things crash. The alternative was thinking that Clint was hurt worse than he'd wanted Bruce to believe, seeing as the Other Guy was definitely no expert in injuries.

As the crashes got louder, and arguably closer, Bruce had to wonder just what Clint had found that exploded in a way that sounded remarkably like Tony's suit's repulsor fire.

It was around that point that he started to wonder if these drugs were going to his head in a bad way.

He practically held his breath, unwilling to admit just how much hope he had that it _was_ Tony. Because if it was, then the rest of the team had found him, and along with him, Clint. Then, this nightmare would be over, and he could go _home_.

He wasn't quite sure when he'd started to consider Stark Tower his home, but he had. He was safe there, he didn't have people staring at him in fear; in fact it was the exact opposite. He had friends that supported him and actually liked having him around, and didn't make him feel like he was a danger.

And after years of running from place to place, trying to stay hidden and out of the way, that was a very welcome change he'd grown somewhat accustomed to.

His body gave a small, involuntary jerk against the straps holding him down when he heard the door behind him get busted open, the thick metal clattering to the floor loudly. The somewhat similar, clunking, hurried footsteps that followed made him sag in relief, eyes closing.

"Bruce!" Tony shouted, his voice holding equal levels of a myriad of emotions; fear, relief, anger and concern being a few.

Bruce wasn't sure he'd heard Tony Stark that concerned about someone that wasn't Pepper _ever_.

"Hey, buddy, come on. You awake?" Tony's rushed voice continued, his mask audibly sliding up. Bruce felt the suit's fingers gently slide the needles out of his arms, and instantly felt the difference.

He wasn't quite as light-headed, and the pain receded somewhat. He forced his eyes to open again, feeling his relief double when he met his friend's dark gaze.

"Thank God." the billionaire's shoulders visibly relaxed, even in the suit. "Stop looking so limp and deathly pale, Banner. You're going to give someone, namely me, a damn heart attack."

Tony's hands flew to the restraints, ripping them in half as gently as he could and not even bothering with the buckles.

"Sorry." Bruce rasped, a small, strained smile forming on his face as he tested his range of movement, barely managing to flex his fingers after a lot of effort. He was simply amazed that Ross had allowed him the dignity of a pair of sweatpants after his change.

"That's right, you'd better damn well apologize." Tony continued, obviously not yet calm, his eyes bright with poorly concealed panic as he looked to the doctor again after freeing him, expression uncertain. "Are you hurt? Can you move? What'd that bastard do to you?"

"First off, stop talking so fast." Bruce more or less muttered, closing his eyes tightly and trying to make his sluggish limbs cooperate enough to get himself into a sitting position. He was grateful but not surprised when Tony's hands instantly flew to support him, easing him up slowly. "Secondly, not in the physical sense, but something with the drugs is making me feel like my blood is on fire. Thirdly, minimally. Fourthly, which I'm not exactly sure is a word, a lot of drugs and tests." Bruce gave a shudder as he answered all of Tony's questions dutifully.

"Alright, Bruce, I'm getting you out of here." Tony said forcefully, and the memory of the same words from a different source made Bruce's eyes fly open, concern flooding them as his mind flew to Clint.

"Clint. He's hurt. We tried to escape, and he killed like a dozen guards, but then we got to a dead end and he got shot. A graze, it was a graze. You've got to help him." a part of Bruce's hazed mind was aware of the fact that he was speaking far too quickly and disjointedly for a normal human being to follow, but the larger part didn't care.

He didn't know what had been done to the archer in the time since they'd been separated after trying to escape, the Other Guy's hazy memories not doing much for him. He couldn't help but to think that Clint would never have even come across Ross if he hadn't been trying to protect him.

"Hey, take it easy. Rodgers, Thor, and Romanoff are on it, alright? They're looking for him, they'll find him." there was a dangerous, matter of fact certainty in Tony's voice that reassured Bruce and he gave a slow, exhausted nod, that the billionaire returned.

Bruce gave a quiet hiss but didn't protest when Tony bodily picked him up, carrying him through the destroyed doorway.

"Guys, I've got Bruce. He says Barton's hurt, but we're not sure how badly." Tony spoke into the comm. link in his helmet next, not bothering to slide his mask back on.

* * *

'_He says Barton's hurt, but we're not sure how badly._'

"Copy." Natasha was the first to respond, her tone flat. Only Clint would have been able to discern the edge of deadly fury that laced her response.

And he would have known to step back and let her take care of the object of her anger under the threat of bodily harm.

Not much got to Natasha. She'd seen too much death and horror and gore in her life to be phased by anything but the most extreme of situations. Her only weakness, and she loathed to admit she even _had_ one, was Clint Barton. The man that had seen something in her, past the blood she had on her hands, to give her a second chance. To make a different call and ultimately both save and change her life in ways she had never thought possible.

She owed him everything, and yet, he had never expected anything out of her. They'd developed a strong partnership over the years; separate, they were deadly, but together they were a terrifying, unstoppable force. They had each other's backs. If someone went after one, the other would quickly make them realize the severity of their mistake.

So, she tore through the compound with a speed and deadly grace SHIELD had never seen rivaled, barely pausing after she took down Simmons' men. She was hoping to come across either Simmons or Ross herself, and then conveniently ignore Stark's claim of first blood. She entered a control room of some sort, the key card system having been over-ridden by Stark only moments after they'd entered.

She knew it had been more for her benefit, seeing as he, Steve and Thor could easily break down any doors they wanted to get through.

Three neat shots downed the only occupants of the control room, and Natasha then allowed herself to look through the one-way glass that made up the entirety of the wall she was facing, freezing when she saw Clint sitting near the center of the room, two dead bodies discarded only a few feet away.

She could see he was pale, a sheen of sweat having formed on his face, a combination that she knew meant he was in some sort of pain. Quickly, she began looking for a way to get into the room with him, now wishing she had left one of the men alive to tell her how to operate the narrow door she saw. Randomly pressing buttons would most likely lead to nothing good.

Pausing with an annoyed huff and ready to call in Thor to simply break down the door, the red-headed assassin noticed a small button directly beneath a microphone. She reached for it swiftly, pressing down the button and speaking quickly.

"Hawkeye, how do I get the door open?" she demanded sharply and emotionlessly, watching as his head snapped up, shock and relief crossing his features before he spoke, rocking to his feet. A discarded rope became visible once he stood, but his arms were still pulled behind him.

'_Third button down on the far right of the first panel._' he responded easily and she quickly found the correct button as he continued. '_Just open the door and let me come to you. Don't come in here yourself._'

His tone suggested that he knew something she didn't, so she didn't argue, pressing the button and quickly approaching the door as it clicked open. She pushed it open and watched without any outward reaction as he quickly moved to join her.

He motioned for her to shut it again once he'd stepped out of the room, leaning heavily against the side of the door opposite her. After she'd done so, she approached him, speaking as she did, hiding a wince once she'd seen the old and new blood smeared across his back and the tight ropes binding his wrists.

"Condition?" she asked, producing a knife to cut through the rope with ease, ignoring the sticky blood that all but coated it.

"A couple shattered ribs, concussion, bullet graze across my lower back, partially dislocated right shoulder, sprained left wrist and some cuts on both wrists." Clint recited with detached ease, obviously running off adrenaline, his dull, glassy eyes meeting hers as he turned back around. He slowly eased his shoulder into a more normal position, nodding when she raised an eyebrow.

Within moments she had taken both hands and jerked his injured shoulder back into place, his eyes flashing and left hand clenching though he didn't make a sound.

"Bruce?" he asked quickly, and Natasha simply gave him a reassuring nod, eyes knowing.

"Tony has him. He's safe." she said firmly, letting her concern show in her eyes when he closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump, leaning his head back against the wall behind him.

"Что еще беспокоит вас?" '_What else is bothering you?_' she asked quietly, eyes narrowed as she looked him over. It wasn't just the pain, seeing as the archer always blew that off without a thought, the same going for exhaustion. This was something different; guilt almost.

"Я не мог помочь ему." '_I couldn't help him._' he muttered under his breath, opening his eyes but not looking to her, which made her frown, even though she didn't have to ask what he meant. He had always taken it upon himself to protect those he was close to. Until recently it had only ever been a side of him she and Coulson saw, but now she could tell that it applied to the entire team.

"Как-то я не сомневаюсь, что вы пробовали." '_Somehow I don't doubt you tried._' she responded dryly, surveying him again, this time with the realization that when the adrenaline wore off, he would probably be dead weight. With shattered ribs, and bullet graze across his lower back, she should probably be lucky he was standing at all. She needed to get him out of here and somewhere safe. Then she could worry about making Ross and Simmons pay for their actions, against both Clint and Bruce. "It's over." she told him firmly, watching until he gave one short nod and a sigh.

Before he could verbally respond, Natasha's comm link crackled to life and she held up a quick hand to stop him, listening as Steve's voice came over.

'_Thor and I found Ross and Simmons. In a hanger off the west side of the building._' the Captain's voice came over, unusually stiff and empty of emotion.

Natasha instantly stiffened, her eyes darkening.

"Copy. I have Clint, and he's going to need medical. We're heading to you." she spoke, ignoring her partner's disgruntled expression at her comment. "Steve and Thor have Ross and Simmons."

Any trace of emotion dropped from his face in the blink of an eye, standing from the wall and taking a step towards the door pointedly.

* * *

'_I have Clint, and he's going to need medical. We're heading to you._'

Tony let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when their resident Russian assassin's voice came over the comm link, assuring that the final member of their team was safe. He needed medical, alright, but if he could move under his own power, his injuries obviously weren't too serious.

"What is it?" Bruce asked from where he had been carefully set down by Tony, attempting to walk on his own and gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain that seemed to accompany the drugs as they burned out of his system. Even though he was able to metabolize them quickly, he'd been under a high dosage for a long time. It was going to take a while to completely wear off, something Tony too seemed to realize.

"Romanoff's got Barton." he said, giving a tight smirk when Bruce's relief showed on his face. "He needs medical, but from what I understand he's moving under his own power. You can't tell me you expected any less from our own stubborn-ass Robin Hood."

Bruce gave a short chuckle but just gave a slight shrug and nod of hesitant agreement.

"And the Captain and Point Break have Ross and Simmons." Tony continued, his tone darkening as they walked slowly forward, eyeing Bruce's struggles carefully and debating whether or not it would just be a better idea to carry the doctor.

"Simmons?" Bruce asked in confusion, turning so his eyes met the billionaire's. He didn't recognize the name, and didn't know why this person would be of any importance.

"Oh, you must have missed some of the finer points of the situation." Tony said lightly, moving to pick up Bruce again, having had enough of watching him struggle to simply move. How he'd let the doctor convince him to walk in the first place, he had no idea. "This isn't Ross' shindig. A dumb bastard named Victor Simmons hired him for help recreating the radiation signature and formula to make other people turn into Jolly Green Giants."

With this information, Bruce froze, horror lighting in his eyes and forgetting to even protest as Tony scooped him up carefully and continued forward at a much faster pace. Someone _else_ had been trying to recreate what he'd unintentionally created within himself, most likely for reasons that would be the opposite of good for the rest of the world.

His train of thought abruptly ended when Tony carried him into a hanger of some sort and he saw Steve and Thor had backed Ross, and another dark-haired man that he assumed to be Simmons, against a wall.

"This looks like my kind of party." Tony said brightly, his tone contrasting drastically with the dangerous levels of anger that burned in his eyes as he looked over the two cornered men.

Thor and Steve turned to look at them as well, both growing noticeably more relieved to see Bruce, pale and shaking but alive, held gently in Iron Man's arms. Tony sat Bruce down just as carefully as he'd picked him up, settling him onto a crate he could sit on instead of having to stand before he walked forward to join the other two Avengers.

"You may have Banner, but I don't see that you've managed to find Hawkeye yet." Simmons' voice was obviously a try at being smug and indifferent, but Tony could see the fear in his eyes. "Come near me, and all I have to do is press this button to kill him."

The man held up a remote threateningly, and Tony felt himself stiffening with barely suppressed rage, despite the fact that he knew Clint was already safe, away from whatever Simmons had set up to kill him. Just the fact that this man even tried to threaten them with one of their teammate's lives after everything he'd already done was enough to make him want to blast him back into another century.

"Trust me, asshole, you do not want to go around trying to threaten us." Tony said emotionlessly, cutting in before Steve or Thor. "I am already in a mood to rip you limb from limb. Do you honestly _see_ me, the demi-god, and the super soldier here? It's done, it's over, give it up. You're not getting away from here under your own power, I guarantee it."

Simmons glanced between them all warily, ignoring Ross as the former general spat something to him quickly that no one else could hear. Tony felt his eyes narrow, and Thor gave a growl, shifting Mjolnir restlessly in his hands. Steve had just simply leveled a glare at both men, shield held stiffly and ready for anything at his side.

After a few moments of silence, Tony just scowled and raised one arm, aiming the repulsor at Simmons and Ross easily.

"Alright, I'm done here. Make your play or I'll make it for you, and it won't be pretty." he said matter of factly.

Simmons just gave a grim smirk and pressed the button on the remote he still held tightly. All of their heads swiveled sharply towards the muted and muffled sound of an explosion from somewhere else in the building.

"If that had any effect on my friend, I swear to you that I will make you regret your actions." Thor rumbled, his voice dark and quiet. Steve and Tony shared a slightly surprised glance, knowing how drastic of a difference it was from the demi-god's normal bright and friendly attitude.

"Relax. Ash isn't really my color." every head in the room once again turned, this time to the same door Tony and Bruce had come through.

They all watched as Clint walked in first, Natasha a half-step behind him to his right. The first thought that ran through the minds of the rest of the team was that the archer looked like hell: pale, sweaty, bloody in places, and obviously doing his best to make only movements that were strictly necessary. Even so, his eyes were hard and cold, the danger in his expression directed at Ross and Simmons who were both staring at him in unmasked shock.

"Neither is charred black, really." the archer continued, his tone one of mocking sarcasm as he moved with a little less than his normal grace to stand beside Bruce, meeting the doctor's gaze with a reassuring grin.

Bruce nodded to him, and gave his own tight smile when the archer's hand landed heavily on his shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Legolas, you look like shit." Tony said lightly, turning away slightly from Ross and Simmons to look at the assassin, who just leveled him with an unreadable look.

"Thanks, Stark. Tell you what, next time you can go toe-to-toe with an average of a dozen mercs a time or two, and get beat to hell as an added bonus. We'll see if you come out looking like sunshine and rainbows." the archer said dryly, giving Bruce a slight roll of his eyes when the doctor's own eyes narrowed into concern.

"Ouch. That hurt." there was a metallic clang when Tony clapped his hand onto the armored chest-plate over his heart. "And for the record, I _never_ plan on looking like sunshine and rainbows. Ever."

Clint scoffed, before his eyes snapped to Ross when the former general shifted. His eyes narrowed back into deadly anger and he shifted to mirror the older man's movements, stance almost predatory.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you asshats. I'm just trying to work out if I want to expend the energy to go over there and knock you both down a few pegs."

"Slitting their throats requires less effort." Natasha pointed out, still standing almost possessively at Clint's side, her eyes never having left the two men, who now looked to her, Ross' eyes widened while Simmons were narrowed. Both were stiff with apprehension, but wisely silent.

"Oh, I don't think you've met the Black Widow." Tony said, mirth in his voice. "She's, like, scarier than he is. Just saying, you're both royally screwed."

"Let's just call for an extraction and get out of here." Steve said in a tired voice, his worried eyes staying on where Clint and Bruce were. Tony rolled his eyes but began speaking into his comm, relaying the situation to Fury and calling in a Quinjet to pick them up, taking a few steps away from the group to have the conversation.

"Think Fury'd give me my 'okay'?" Clint mused, head tilting to the side slightly as he looked to Natasha speculatively.

"I don't know that he'd give it to you, but I think he'd give it to me." she said, her tone light and airy as she met his gaze. He almost seemed to pout with her words, carefully crossing his arms over his chest and hiding a grimace of pain at the action.

"That's not fair. Bruce got to break the bastard's nose, I haven't even gotten a hit in." the archer complained, and the eyes of every Avenger turned to him and then Bruce, eyes wide with surprise. Tony even shushed Fury for a moment, looking like Christmas had come early.

The doctor just gave an almost embarrassed grin at their expressions.

"Clint, you did kill around twenty of the guards." he pointed out modestly, but the archer just shook his head with a sigh.

"It's not the same level of satisfaction. I promised that if he tried to get at you again, I'd put an arrow through his eye. I'd say this over-qualifies to fulfill that promise. Majorly." Clint explained, giving a grin to Steve's exasperated expression.

"You're lucky to be walking out of here, Hawkeye, alright? Don't push it." the Captain said, his tone hopeful. He wasn't about to stop his friend if he went at either Simmons or Ross, though, not after everything that'd happened. And he didn't know even close to the full story. He just didn't want Clint to hurt himself.

"If anyone's interested, Fury just gave the order to clear out." Tony came back over to them, expression one of vicious satisfaction. "He's calling in an air-strike to level the place, and I have various things of a science-y nature to make sure never see the light of day again." he turned to Ross and Simmons who were still watching the assembled group uncertainly. "I really hope you bastards got the damn message. You don't mess with the Avengers." he started walking away, only to turn back just before he got to the door, his eyes finding Natasha's as he tapped the side of his helmet where his ear was. "Agent Romanoff."

Natasha gave a nod of understanding, taking her own step back and bowing her head slightly. She simply listened for a few moments, her expression betraying nothing.

"Yes, sir." she said easily, before looking up to Steve and Thor. "Why don't you guys get Clint and Bruce out of here? The Quinjet should be landing about now."

Steve's jaw clenched slightly and he gave a short nod, understanding her meaning. He jerked his head pointedly to Thor before walking over to Bruce, who was still sitting on the crate Tony had left him on.

"Do you think you can walk yet?" the Captain asked, obviously concerned, and Bruce just gave his a tired smile and a small shrug.

"I can, yes." he said simply, and Clint rolled his eyes as Steve offered his hand to help Bruce to his feet.

"I'm sure you _can_, Bruce. I think Cap's asking if you want to." the archer said with a raised eyebrow and Steve gave a quick nod of agreement.

Bruce adopted a somewhat sheepish expression, but shook his head. "Not particularly. We'd be here all day."

That's all it took for Steve to carefully lift the doctor into his arms and start for the exit to the hangar, which was opposite the door back into the building. Thor cast a questioning look to Clint who raised a quick hand before the Asgardian could ask.

"Thanks, but I've got it." he said simply, and Thor nodded. The archer then cast his gaze up to meet Natasha's, his expression hard and devoid of emotion.

The red-headed woman didn't say a word, her eyes communicating all she needed to. After no more than a few moments, Clint gave a dark, if slightly disappointed, smirk and gave a mocking two-fingered salute to Ross and Simmons who were watching as they dispersed with confusion.

Ross' eyes narrowed into anger at the gesture, but Clint ignored him, turning to follow the path that Steve had taken with Bruce. Walking - _standing_ - may have hurt like hell, but he wasn't going to give either of the men that had formerly been holding him captive the satisfaction of knowing they had hurt him as much as they had. Maybe it had something to do with pride, or maybe he just used it as a way to protect himself, but no one aside from those he trusted would ever know when he was in pain. Not even SHIELD medics got a straight answer out of him unless Natasha, or Phil before he had died, had ratted him out. And then again, recently he preferred to let Bruce look him over instead of going to a medic at all.

Fury may not approve of him skipping the infirmary, but it was a habit that hadn't changed since he'd joined SHIELD, so he doubted it was going to.

He was more than aware that Thor stuck protectively to his side the entire walk out to the waiting Quinjet, but he ignored it, smiling slightly to himself at the demi-god's actions. He even went as far as to accept Steve's hand up into the jet, gingerly settling himself beside Bruce on one of the benches.

"So, plan D sucked." he said conversationally, giving a wry smirk when Bruce let out a short burst of laughter, the relief that colored the sound obvious.

"Better than plan W?" the doctor asked once he'd calmed somewhat and Clint snorted, leaning back against the cool side of the jet.

"Seeing as plan W left me in the infirmary for about a month after a four day coma, I'm going to go with a yes." he said simply, but Bruce just gave a slow shake of his head.

"Do I want to know?" Steve asked as a sigh, offering bottles of water to both Clint and Bruce. Both took them with nods of thanks, before Clint smirked.

"It's a long story." he explained simply, before his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of something slip out of the hanger out of the corner of his eye.

In one fluid motion, Clint had set down his water and grabbed the SHIELD issue pistol that was hidden underneath the bench he was sitting on. He knew it would be there, every Quinjet had two; one under each bench. Ignoring the protests from his ribs and back, he stood, moved so he was positioned on the ramp of the jet, and tracked Ross' movements as the former general tried to slip unnoticed around the side of the building. Clearly, he thought the shadows cast by the either rising or setting sun would keep him hidden from the occupants of the jet.

"Clint," Steve started, reaching for his shield as Thor spun his hammer and prepared to go after the man.

Before any more could be said, or either could move, Clint had fired the pistol in his hand, watching with hard, emotionless eyes as in the next moment the older man collapsed bonelessly to the ground and didn't get back up. The archer's expression didn't change and he didn't look to his team-mates unsurprised faces as he placed the pistol onto the bench beside where he had been sitting. Carefully, he shook out his already sprained wrist before rubbing it absentmindedly, his eyes on the body again.

"It's not an arrow though the eye, but I'll take it." he said matter of factly, eyes turning to Bruce almost questioningly.

The doctor looked somewhat shocked, though Clint could tell it wasn't by what he had done. It was more because he was trying to process the fact that the man that had been threatening him for years was dead. He seemed to realize that Clint's eyes were on him and he looked up, giving the archer a short, almost hesitant nod.

Clint returned it before looking up as Natasha came jogging out of the hanger, though she didn't look very worried, her eyes falling onto Ross' fallen body as she neared the jet.

"Sorry about that." she said, her face blank as her eyes travelled across Steve, Thor, and Bruce before finally stopping on Clint. "He got past me while I was dealing with Simmons."

Clint stopped himself from expressing his disbelief out loud, instead just raising an eyebrow at her as he retook his seat, one arm wrapped tightly around his ribs, even though he knew that it wouldn't do much for him.

"Clint took care of it." Steve explained, rubbing the back of his head, but not commenting on the coincidence he'd obviously picked up on, even though Thor was unaware, and Bruce still looked to be in the processing stages.

"Good." Natasha leapt easily into the Quinjet, squeezing herself beside Clint on the edge of the bench and giving him a smirk when he scooted over slightly to give her more room.

"Will someone tell Stark to hurry up and get his ass back here before I tell the pilot we're good to go and he'll just have to fly his own ass back?" Clint questioned, taking comfort in Natasha's familiar warmth. Normally, he would have thrown an arm around her shoulders, but unfortunately, she was sitting on the side with the bad shoulder.

"Jeeze, Barton, you're starting to make me think you've got somewhere better you'd like to be." Tony rejoined them at almost that exact moment, dropping from the hover he'd been in above them before he walked into the jet and removed his helmet, moving to stick his head into the cockpit quickly.

"My bed sounds nice." Clint deadpanned, eyes narrowing slightly at the billionaire, though there was no actual aggravation on his face or in his tone, just complete and obvious exhaustion. "Maybe a shower. Some food. What'd you say, Bruce?"

"I'd like to get out of this plane before these drugs wear off completely." the doctor said simply as Thor and Steve settled on to the other bench while Tony pressed the button to close up the ramp and the jet began take-off.

They all fell silent for a few long moments, before, unsurprisingly, Tony was the first to speak up, his tone casual but carrying a heaviness that no one missed.

"So, why don't we just talk about the elephant in the room, or plane, and get it over with." he offered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the side of the jet as everyone's eyes turned to him. "I think we're crossing 'going to the movies' off our list of acceptable pastimes."

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, looking guilty, which Steve instantly picked up on. The Captain frowned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Bruce, none of it was _your_ fault." he said, sounding almost confused. "I'm sure Clint would agree to that."

"Of course it wasn't." the archer spoke up instantly, looking to the doctor with a raised eyebrow. He didn't see how Bruce could think it was, but the man already had it ingrained into him that he was a danger to everyone around him, unfortunately.

"Clint, you were trying to protect _me_." Bruce pointed out quietly, unable to meet the archer's gaze and see the hints of pain reflected there, knowing that it had more or less been caused by him. "Because let's be honest, you never would have even crossed paths with Ross if it hadn't been for me. Looking past that, you would have been out of there no more than thirty minutes after you'd woken up if you hadn't had me trailing along. The only reason they took you again was because you wouldn't leave me."

"Damn right I wouldn't." Clint said stonily, even though his eyes softened as he forced the doctor to meet his gaze. He was thankful that the rest of the team was silent for the moment, allowing them to have this conversation, because he knew Bruce needed it. "Maybe you're right, I could've gotten out, but I've never been one to leave a friend to something like that, and I sure as hell wasn't leaving you to those two bastards."

Bruce stared at him for a long few moments, expression one that almost seemed to hold disbelief, and a distinct lack of understanding.

"Why?" he asked, truly not understanding what had sparked the archer's steadfast loyalty. It wasn't like he himself had done anything to warrant it. It was only the Other Guy with the team during fights, not him. And in the tower, he and Clint got along, they _were_ good friends, but not to the point where something like this would be expected; risking his life and taking torture that he could have avoided.

Tony made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, most likely wanting to protest that Bruce shouldn't have to even ask that question, but a restraining hand on his arm from Steve had him pausing and waiting for Clint's response.

"Because you didn't deserve what they were doing to you, Bruce." Clint said easily, sincerity easily apparent in his eyes. "You're my team-mate, and you're my friend and you shouldn't have had to deal with them in the first place and much less alone. I don't exactly make a habit of trusting people, never have. But for some reason, I trust you, and I trust this team. And _anyone_ who makes a move on _any_ of you is going to have hell to pay."

Maybe it was the concussion that caused Clint to give the entire team that brief look into his head, which was normally something he didn't do. Really, though, it was just something he wanted everyone to understand. He knew it had gotten across by the somewhat surprised looks everyone was given him, besides Natasha.

She was just staring at him with a happy, if not slightly exasperated expression on her face. She wasn't sure Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Thor really understood what a giant leap Clint was making by saying what he did. She did know, however, and it gave her a peace of mind that she hadn't felt… ever, really.

"Wow, Barton, that was deep." Tony commented with a playfully mocking tone that effectively destroyed any hint of the team-bonding moment they were just having.

"Stark, I'm going to knock you unconscious, disarm your thrusters and shove you out the back of the plane." Clint said, his tone one of matter of fact certainty that had Tony giving a blink and a nervous smile. When the archer gave a wry smirk in return, they all laughed, though Clint's was short and quiet.

"Thank you." Bruce said quietly after they'd calmed a few moments later, and Clint looked to him again and gave a nod.

"Anytime."

"So, honestly Clint, are you alright?" Steve asked, concern edging his voice again, and the archer gave a small shrug with his left shoulder, still carefully not moving the right.

"Couple broke ribs, concussion, bullet graze, partially dislocated shoulder and sprained wrist." he listed again, making Bruce wince, Tony scowl and Steve frown while Thor just gave a sigh. "The ribs are the kicker."

"Well, we should only be about a half hour out from the helicarrier." Steve assured him, before looking to Bruce as Clint scowled. "Is there anything we can do for you, Bruce?"

"Not really. I've just got to let these drugs wear off." the doctor sighed, giving his own small grimace of pain. "It'll probably take a while."

"I thought we were going _home_." Clint complained, leaning his head back onto the side of the jet again and closing his eyes.

"You need to see a doctor, Clint." Natasha said, no room for argument in her voice. She knew that he didn't like medical attention, but sometimes there was a point when she couldn't just let him slip away and nurse his own wounds.

"Bruce." Clint turned to the man beside him, waiting until their eyes met before he looked back to Natasha with a mischievous grin. "There, I've seen the doctor, and the doctor's seen me."

"That doesn't count, Clint." it was Bruce that corrected him, his tone one of patient amusement.

Clint gave a quiet scoff, but as he looked around himself at the unyielding expressions of everyone else, he allowed himself to sigh and relax, dropping the mask that kept his pain bottled up. He didn't need it around his team, he knew, and he was tired. It was better to relax now, when it was just them and be able to keep up the mask on the helicarrier.

"Fine." he said simply, not bothering to argue anymore. How could he when he knew that Thor and Steve both could both pick him up, and not take 'no' for an answer?

"Just get some rest, Legolas. You too, Bruce." Tony said, his voice quieter than before, and reassuring.

Clint did so, feeling Natasha grip his forearm gently and reassuringly, and feeling content that both he and Bruce were safe.

* * *

**Alright, there we go. Just one more chapter to wrap things up.**

**Don't forget to leave a review to tell me what you thought about how things ended with Ross and Simmons. Or anything really, I appreciate any reviews. It won't be long until the last chapter is up.  
~Dogstar**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here it is, everyone. The last and final chapter of Protective Reasoning. Don't worry, though, after this you'll still get the little extra with Ross. When I post that, I'll also give you guys a hand in picking the next story I write, seeing as I'm stuck between two ideas, but more information on those when I post the extra chapter.**

**As always, a huge thank you to those who reviewed, favorited, alerted, or even read this story. I can honestly say, that it's gotten more feedback than anything else I've written.**

**I hope you all enjoy the chapter**

**As always, I own nothing.**

* * *

Clint lounged back on the couch in the common area of the floor of Stark Tower that housed all of the Avengers' expansive rooms, his expression one of complete boredom. It had been a few days since the fiasco with Ross and Simmons, and while Clint had convinced the SHIELD doctors to let him recover in the tower, he hadn't expected the watchful eyes of his entire team, plus Pepper to be so persistent in making sure he was resting. Even so, he'd discarded the sling they'd given him for his shoulder in under ten minutes and had since stubbornly refused to even pick it back up. He'd unhappily acquiesced to keeping the brace for his wrist, though. He'd ended up with a total of six broken ribs, the shards from one having come dangerously close to a lung.

Bruce hadn't suffered any lasting effects from the drugs he'd been kept under, and seemed to have recovered, even though he was spending long stretches of time alone in his lab. No one was quite sure what was bothering him, and only Tony had been brave enough to broach the subject, only to be politely and calmly blown off before he'd even gotten out his entire question.

Clint accepted that the man needed time to process what had happened and wisely left him alone, doubting the doctor wanted his two cents any more than he had wanted Tony's.

Currently, he was staring absentmindedly at the TV while flipping through channels, contemplating simply raiding Tony's eclectic and well-stocked movie collection. He was alone at the moment: Natasha, Steve and Thor in the gym two floors down, Tony in his lab, Pepper at a series of meetings, and Bruce either in his own lab or working with Tony. In all honesty, Clint didn't mind being alone. He loved it, especially when more often than not whoever he was with was sending him concerned expressions every time he so much as twitched.

If he could get to the roof or a balcony, he'd like it even more, seeing as he was in the mood for fresh air. The fact that it was October and had the possibility of being cold didn't bother him, the thought of gazing down at the bustling city growing more and more appealing as he thought about it.

Quickly making his decision, but rising to a sitting position much slower, Clint allowed himself a grimace of pain as the movement pulled on the still healing graze across the small of his back, and shifted his ribs beneath the tight bandages wound around his entire torso. He turned his head to the elevator, scowling when he heard it slide open, waiting for whoever it was to round the corner.

The elevator was positioned behind the kitchen, which made up a large section of the north side of the circular common area. The rest of the space was taken up by multiple couches, a very large, very state of the art entertainment center and the dining table. Fanning out around the edges were their rooms, doors spaced evenly around the common area's wall.

"Oh, there you are." Tony said upon seeing Clint on the couch and then making a bee-line for him. "I was just rooting through the security footage from Simmons' little hell hole. I've got a question."

Clint gave a slight scowl, eyes narrowing. He and Bruce had already been through what they'd wanted to share with both Fury and the rest of the team; the billionaire didn't need to be snooping through security footage as well. Then again, he wasn't exactly surprised. He wasn't sure Stark knew the definition of 'privacy'.

"What?" he prompted, deciding it was best to just see what Tony wanted, as opposed to listening to him ask over and over until he got an answer.

"After the whole deal with the Big Guy. That guard was on a fast track to being six feet under. What stopped you?" Tony questioned bluntly, plopping onto a cushion across from him, eyes curious.

Clint let out a long breath and leaned back onto the couch. He remembered what Tony was talking about, but he knew that if he had to do it again, he wouldn't have changed his decision to stand at that moment. Who knew how the rescue would have gone if he hadn't?

"After our little escape attempt, Simmons told me that if I made another move, he'd go after Bruce." the archer answered truthfully, watching as Stark's eyes darkened into understanding and anger. "That's why I stopped fighting. I couldn't let Bruce get hurt for something I had done. Sending the guard to the ground in the first place had been reflex."

"So that's why he made the whole jab about the Hawk being tamed." Tony said emotionlessly, and Clint nodded.

"Look, we don't need to dwell on it. The bastards are dead, and they won't be a problem for Bruce anymore." Clint said matter of factly, before his head tilted to the side. "How is he?"

"I don't know." Tony admitted, sounding frustrated, which made Clint frown as well. If Bruce was still avoiding Tony too, he obviously wasn't alright.

The archer's eyes snapped to a door to his left as he heard it ease closed, nearly silently. He sighed in frustration, knowing it was Bruce's door. Tony's eyes followed his and he winced slightly, before looking back to Clint.

"Why don't you give it a try, hmm?" the billionaire prompted with a raised eyebrow, and Clint looked to him next, expression blank.

After a few moments, he nodded and slowly eased himself to his feet, making for Bruce's door silently. Frowning, he realized that he could hear the muffled, barely audible rustling sounds of a bag being packed. His eyes narrowed with that realization, and wondered what had sparked the decision to run again in the doctor's mind.

Casting a quick glance back to where Tony was sitting on the couch, Clint knocked sharply on the door before crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for a response.

Bruce froze as he heard the knock, eyes widening slightly. Of _course_ Clint had seen or heard him go into his room. He felt his hands clench on the duffle bag he was holding and he closed his eyes tightly as the words he'd heard from Clint and Tony only a few moments before ran through his head.

It was just a reminder of what he had already known; Clint had stopped fighting his captors for the sole purpose of keeping him safe. He wasn't quite sure why he hated the idea as much as he did, any normal person would have simply been grateful for what the archer had been willing to do. And while he _was_ grateful, he hadn't been normal for quite a long time.

He didn't want to run off again, but how could he stay and know he was putting his friends into danger? Because he knew any one of them would have done what Clint did, and he couldn't stand it. The guilt was eating at him, and while the feeling certainly wasn't new, he had had enough of it.

"Bruce, so help me God, I will come through the air vent." Clint's matter of fact voice came through the door, and he sighed. He should have known simply ignoring the archer wouldn't work. The man had patience that rivaled Steve's when he wanted to.

Letting the man go crawling through the air ducts with broken ribs wasn't a good idea, and Clint Barton didn't bluff.

So, reluctantly, he crossed the room to reach the door, unlocking it and pulling it open before he took a few quick steps back and crossed his arms over his chest, even though he knew he probably had the equivalent of a 'kicked puppy' look on his face.

"So if I asked what the hell you were doing, would I get anywhere near a truthful answer?" Clint asked shortly, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.

Bruce flinched slightly at the subtle accusation in his tone, lowering his gaze and giving a sigh.

"It's not safe with me here, Clint." he said, tone bitter as he realized the truth to his words. "And it was completely unrealistic for me to ever think it would be."

Clint's eyes narrowed with his statement, a frown forming on his face. Bruce just shifted uncomfortably, waiting for the argument he knew was coming. Although, he supposed he should be glad that it wasn't Tony that had found him packing. He would have been considerably less calm about it than Clint seemed to be. The archer just seemed disappointed; hurt almost. And if the doctor was honest, that wasn't much better for his peace of mind.

"Bruce, we took care of them." Clint said, his voice slightly confused but not at all gentler. "You think we would let anyone near you again? I know I screwed up, I let you get hurt, but-,"

"Wait. _What?_" Bruce cut him off, finally looking up and letting confusion and disbelief dominate his expression. His eyes widened as he realized Clint thought he was concerned for his _own_ safety. "No, no, no. Hawkeye, you didn't _let_ anything happen. You took on an eleven-to-one fight, got a concussion because you were distracted by me. Took on an entire _base_ of guards, and once again lost because you couldn't protect _me_. You got a bullet graze, six practically shattered ribs, a pretty much dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist. That's not letting me get hurt. That's getting backed into a corner and letting yourself get beat to hell instead of taking the way out right behind you." Bruce said shortly, giving a shake of his head. He was probably getting a bit angrier than he should be, but Clint feeling guilty for anything that had happened was completely insane.

And then there was the fact that the now stubbornly silent archer didn't look the least bit fazed by the emotion he was allowing himself to show. Which, at the moment, just further served to prove his point to himself that the others simply refused to see the danger they were in.

"As troubling as the fact is that I have people out for my blood, literally, I wasn't referring to my own safety." Bruce continued, watching as realization sparked in Clint's eyes before it was gone, replaced by an almost mocking darkness.

"Oh, well, excuse me for not realizing that you were worried for the safety of the super soldier, the demi-god, the billionaire-asshole-genius with the metal suit, and the two highly trained assassins. What in the _world_ has come over me?"

Bruce swore he felt his eye twitch as Clint managed to make the words not only bitingly sarcastic, but condescending to the point of insulting. He idly realized that the younger archer could give Tony lessons in the power of a tone. And that was saying something.

"Clint, I am done watching my friends get hurt." Bruce said, making obvious effort to calm himself down, his voice lowering. "Not because of me, ever again. I _will not_ let that happen. So if the only way to keep all of you safe from me, or the people gunning for me, is to pack up and leave, I'll do it. I've done it before and I can make it work."

He didn't say that he'd finally gotten used to having a bed, running water, hell even a roof over his head again. That he really, really, liked having three square meals a day and intelligent conversation about the finer workings of nuclear engineering and astrophysics and whatever else he and Tony thought up in a given moment. He'd still give it up and leave, though. Because, despite all of his doubts, he had become friends with the entire team, and he couldn't stand watching them get hurt.

"Bruce you don't need to." Clint protested, eyes locked onto him and closely monitoring his every movement and change in expression. Bruce already knew he wouldn't get anything past the archer, so he didn't even try.

"Clint, I don't want to count all the opportunities you had to be killed in just the eighteen hours Ross and Simmons had us." Bruce shook his head, his voice once again taking on a bitter edge. "They could have shot you. They could have tortured you to death. The Other Guy could have decided you looked better as a pancake."

"I'm not trying to brag or anything, Bruce, but the first two are distinct possibilities in my line of work every day." Clint said, matter of factly, one eyebrow raised. "And as for that last one, I'm firmly convinced that that is about as solid a possibility as Stark learning the definition of the word 'privacy'."

Bruce moved to protest again, wanting to point out that the archer was _nuts_ if he actually believed that, but Clint just continued.

"I wouldn't lie to you about this. The Big Guy was raging around that room about as pissed as I had ever seen him. Ross threw me in there with my hands cuffed behind my back, and I'll admit I was a little worried because of the drugs and the situation. He took one look at me, called me Cupid and asked if I was hurt." Clint said matter of factly, his own expression softening as Bruce unwillingly felt his shoulders slump in shock, eyes widening in disbelief.

He had been curious as to how Clint had managed to talk the Other Guy down in the first place and convinced the huge, green rage monster not to kill him. Now, Clint was telling him that he hadn't even had too; that the Other Guy had calmed and recognized Clint on his own, and go so far as to ask if he was hurt. Truthfully, he had a hard time believing it, even as the Other Guy gave a growl at the thought from where Bruce had him safely pushed back in his own mind.

"He physically broke the handcuffs off my wrists, gently I might add, and he protected me, Bruce." Clint said, taking a step forward, and forcing the doctor to meet his gaze. "He's not a danger to any of us, and the _only_ one that thinks he is, is you and some random assholes that no one gives two shits about."

"It's just hard trying to accept that he actually did all that, when I know first-hand that there's a possibility of something much darker and much more dangerous." Bruce admitted with a shudder, practically falling back to sit on his bed and listening as Clint moved to join him.

"People can change. Evidently, so can huge, green rage monsters." the archer shrugged, truthfully not able to give the doctor a better answer. "And I'm not sure the Big Guy would appreciate a shrink."

Bruce couldn't help a dry snort of amusement, shaking his head at the thought.

"And as for your other little problem, it could happen to any of us, Bruce. I'm pretty sure we've all made enemies. And some of them are probably going to eventually crop back up and raise hell, and we're going to have to deal with them. But not alone." Clint's stormy gray eyes looked to him again, and Bruce felt his resolve crumbling away, which caused him to sigh and rub his eyes beneath his glasses. "You could always still go and all. Make a nice little point. But Tony can find you and I can fly a Quinjet, so we'll just end up dragging you back anyway. We'll have Thor and Steve for muscle and emotional support, and Nat can be pretty damn persuasive."

"You might want to be careful with the whole 'dragging' thing." Bruce said in a tired voice, but the bitterness was gone, and Clint just gave a bright smirk.

"Please. Hulk won't hurt Cupid." The archer scoffed easily and Bruce finally raised his eyes again to meet his.

They were silent for a few long moments, Bruce reassuring himself of Clint's sincerity. When he broke the silence, his voice was calm and almost longing, although the gratitude was very poorly hidden.

"You used to be _quiet_."

Clint's laugh was rough and short due to his ribs, but genuine, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"I'm only quiet around the people I don't like, doc." the archer pointed out, standing slowly. "Unless, of course, I decide it'd be fun to piss them off. That happens sometimes."

Bruce scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Come on, then." Clint waved him forward, as well, sparking confusion in the doctor's eyes. "I _told_ you we would be working on your aim. You almost shot me Banner."

Clint's voice was clearly joking, so Bruce didn't take offense but he was still reluctant.

"The last time I was in the gym I broke it." he pointed out, but Clint just snorted.

"I promise I won't let Thor try to wrestle with the Big Guy again."

"Shouldn't we wait until you can, you know, move properly?"

"Banner."

"Coming." Bruce allowed a smile to tug at his lips, standing and following Clint out of the room, unsurprised when Tony practically pounced on them expectantly.

"Well?" the billionaire demanded. "I see you didn't blow off Featherhead, which leaves me mildly insulted."

"We've ruled out Mumbai." Clint said helpfully, giving Bruce another, decidedly more evil smirk as he walked towards the elevator.

"Wait, were we _considering_ Mumbai?" Tony demanded, his tone growing sharper as he all but leapt in front of Bruce, eyes accusing. "You were going to leave me? Bruce? Buddy?"

Bruce sighed, glaring at Clint who simply gave what sounded almost like a cackle, eyes bright.

"Tony, I'm not going anywhere." the doctor said placatingly, and the billionaire relaxed slightly, though he still looked concerned.

"You'd better not." Tony hedged, giving the _least_ convincing puppy dog eyes Bruce had ever seen.

"You look like you're constipated or something." Clint offered from where he'd leaned against the side of the elevator to watch the exchange in amusement.

"Shut up, Featherhead." Tony scowled, but Clint didn't give.

"That all you got, Iron Ass?"

"Ooh, am I seeing ruffled feathers?"

"I think you've got some fascination with feathers, Stark." Clint deadpanned, pressing the button for the elevator, and Bruce just rolled his eyes.

Clint and Tony could go back and forth for forever, but at least it was usually mildly entertaining.

"So where we headed?" Tony asked, apparently abandoning the argument for the time being as he followed behind Clint and Bruce into the elevator.

"I've got to teach Bruce how _not_ to shoot me when I hand him a pistol." Clint said lightly, making the doctor sigh and Tony raise a questioning eyebrow.

"I didn't shoot you." Bruce reminded, unable to help a quiet chuckle at the level, emotionless look Clint sent him.

"It was close enough." Clint said matter of factly, before looking to Tony. "I think he's in denial."

"I'm not…" Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, glaring at the archer. "I hate you Barton."

"And so the truth comes out." Tony gave a long, obviously fake sigh, and a shake of his head. "It's a shame."

"I hate you both." Bruce amended easily, exiting the elevator as soon as the doors opened.

"Ouch." Clint chuckled lightly, patting a now devastated-looking Tony comfortingly on the shoulder before he followed after Bruce, calling out quickly to Natasha who looked up from where she was currently flitting around Thor's obviously frustrated form.

"Hey!" Tony protested, grinning wildly as he caught up as well, jabbering something to Bruce about what he'd been tinkering with in his lab earlier.

~  
_Two weeks later  
_~

Bruce was finally getting ready for bed, tired but happy with the progress he and Tony had made that day on one of their little side projects.

Sure, it was three in the morning, but Clint's new quiver was coming along rather well, considering how hard it was to keep something hidden from the master assassin who had a habit of sneaking around in their air ducts.

The gift itself had been Bruce's idea, but the idea to make the archer a new, re-vamped quiver had been Tony's. And of course, they'd needed Natasha's help in getting their hands on his _old_ quiver long enough to get the measurements and schematics they would need without Clint realizing it had gone missing for a few hours.

The doctor glanced up when he heard a rapping sound on the air vent above him, adopting an exasperated expression. Speak of the devil…

"You know, a lot of people consider knocking on a door easier." he commented idly, raising an eyebrow as Clint took that as his permission to slide back the grate and drop in, expertly hiding the grimace of pain that went with the action. Bruce frowned when he caught a glimpse of it but didn't draw attention to it.

They all knew that there was no way the archer's ribs had fully healed, and they still hadn't allowed him to even touch the training gym, but keeping him out of the ducts proved to be much harder and much more futile.

"I'm not a fan of easy." Clint said nonchalantly with a shrug, before he held out a formerly unnoticed stack of files, his eyes darkening slightly. "These are for you."

Somewhat confused, Bruce took them, flipping open the top one and feeling his confusion deepen when he didn't recognize name or picture. He looked back up to Clint with a raised eyebrow before he read any more, clearly wondering if there was any information coming.

"Those are all the people SHIELD has kept off you that are still breathing." the archer gave his explanation with a slight nod, crossing his arms over his chest as Bruce felt his eyes widen in shock and his gaze snapped back to the stack in his hands.

He was holding at least five files, and the thought almost made his blood run cold and the Other Guy give an unhappy, restless grumble.

"I think you deserve to know what's in them." Clint continued, voice hard, eyes flicking from the stack before back to the doctor himself. "Me, Fury and Hill are the only others who have been read into the entirety of them. You should also know that SHIELD has eyes on all of those people, on the off chance one decides to spark something. After the clusterfuck with Simmons, no one wants to take any chances."

Bruce found himself nodding, surprised at just how much SHIELD had done for him while he had been on the run and suspected them of wanting him dead.

"Does Fury know you're giving these to me?" he asked, not believing the SHIELD director one to share information beyond a /very/ strict 'need to know'.

"Fury can cry me a river." Clint said shortly, which the doctor took to be a 'no'. "This isn't something to keep you in the dark about."

"I thought Tony hacked my file? All of our files." Bruce sighed, closing the top file again and looking up to Clint.

"Tony didn't hack this far." the archer gave a smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Like seriously, four people in the world have complete access to your file. One of them is me, and one of them was Coulson. It isn't in the database. Paper only. Like mine and Natasha's full files."

"Then how'd you even get these?" Bruce asked, giving what he held a slight shake for emphasis and Clint's eyes gave an amused flash.

"Carefully."

"Clint, you could be fired for this." Bruce frowned, and the archer gave a shrug, neither agreeing nor disputing his statement.

"Fury can't exactly get angry with me for giving you part of your own file." he said, though Bruce wasn't exactly sure that was the truth. "And he can't fire you, so it's up to you whether or not you want to share with the rest of the team."

Bruce saw what the archer was doing and he gave a grateful smile, if it wasn't a little strained.

"Thank you." he said, but Clint just shook his head.

"No problem." he said, giving Bruce his own grin and relaxing slightly before he leapt up and pulled himself back into the duct he'd entered through, air vent sliding into place.

Unsurprisingly, all thoughts of sleep had been driven from the doctor's mind as he sat down in an arm chair by the window and sat the files on his lap, taking a deep, steadying breath before opening the top one again and beginning to read a bit more deeply.

It was disconcerting, to put it simply, to read in almost scary detail the information SHIELD had gathered about the operations of the five men that had been interested in trying to hunt him down for various reasons that didn't sound pleasant at all, and then done to prevent those things from happening. Even with the knowledge that these people were still loose in the world, though, he found himself much less worried, much less scared than he'd originally thought he'd be after reading through them.

As he slipped the files into the top drawer of his nightstand and once again beginning to get ready for bed, he thought that it probably had something to do with the super soldier, demi-god, billionaire genius with the metal suit, and two highly trained assassins he got to call teammates.

* * *

**Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.**

**Don't forget to leave me a review with your thoughts, because I love reading and responding to them. The extra chapter will be up in a day or two as well as the descriptions for my next two possible stories that you'll have to choose from.  
~Dogstar**


	7. Chapter 7

**So here's your little extra/deleted scene. But before we get to that, I have a question for all you readers out there. **

**As I've stated, I've got two main ideas for my next story. They're both going to be written, it's just a matter of order. So, I'm going to decide by popular demand and let you guys choose. They are as follows:**

**1)A sort of prequel to Protective Reasoning that takes place right after the whole Loki/alien invasion thing and shows how the teams' relationships and bonds grew to what you've seen in this story. There will still be a fair bit of action, and a bit of Tony whump by request, and it will probably be longer.**

**2)More of a sequel that's based on Clint/Natasha and a very difficult situation between Natasha and SHIELD. The entire team will feature, though. And there may or may not be an unexpected guest, haven't decided yet. It's a good guest though.**

**So, there are your choices, so if you want a say, leave a review and tell me you preference.**

**Back to this, I know it's a little short, and I hope it doesn't disappoint. This is how I see Ross' reaction, and I find it very amusing.**

**As always, I own nothing.**

* * *

Ross couldn't help smiling evilly to himself as he heard Hawkeye being more or less dragged behind him by the guards on his either side.

He may have underestimated the man in the beginning. Somehow, he'd managed to get free and incapacitate both of his guards, one with a snapped neck and the other with a partially crushed windpipe, before he'd moved on to free Banner. He'd then taken the doctor through the maze that was the building's hallways, leaving a trail of death behind him. By the time Ross had managed to subdue him, he'd only had four remaining from the group of twenty guards he'd set out with.

The former general had been furious that a supposed prisoner had managed to get such a leg up, but a part of his brain was nagging at him that he _had_ been warned by multiple sources, including the cocky assassin himself, that he wasn't to be taken lightly. The fight in the movie theater alone should have been enough to prove that to him. Faced with eleven men and only a small collection of knives, Hawkeye hadn't even blinked. He grudgingly admitted to himself that both times, if he hadn't had Banner to use as leverage, the altercations might not have ended so well for him.

Even so, he _had_ as it turned out, and he'd more than expressed his disapproval and anger towards the sandy-haired assassin in the brutal beating the two guards had delivered to him at the former general's order. Ross was sure that he'd heard the sound of ribs snapping, even if the assassin hadn't made a single sound.

And now, Ross was getting the chance for his final act of revenge against the assassin that had been an annoying thorn in his side for far too long. He had to admit that putting the great Hawkeye in the same room with the raging monster that he had been trying to protect had been one of his better ideas. He wanted to see the fear and horror that crossed even the younger man's normally indifferent face as the beast loomed over him before ripping him limb from limb in the destructive power he'd seen before.

He watched Hawkeye's face greedily once they were in the room, mildly disappointed to see only the same indifference as was typical, even as the man watched the beast's fruitless attempts to beat through the walls.

"We're very safe here." Ross said, still watching the assassin's expression, his tone carrying a mocking smugness. "There's no spot in the room that hasn't been reinforced to deal with its strength."

Even as the former general watched him carefully, Hawkeye didn't react other than to let his shoulders _relax_ of all things. Ross found he couldn't help a slow, disbelieving shake of his head at his attitude before he continued, hoping to elicit some fear, or any reaction really from the assassin.

"How does it feel to know you're going to be killed by the very thing you were trying to protect?" he asked, keeping himself from giving a dark chuckle of anticipation.

He finally garnered a response from the man, but not the one he was looking for.

The glare was so full of heat and deadly promise that Ross felt some of his own fear of this man return, completely unbidden.

"He is not a thing. And I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but he's not going to kill me." Hawkeye's voice was low and certain, but Ross just raised an eyebrow at him, before turning to look at the beast just as it let out another roar that visibly shook the one-way glass they were looking through.

"At least you'll die optimistic." the former general said, his eyes flashing with mirth as he pressed down on the button that he knew would release the lock on the door into the room.

As soon as it clicked open, Ross waved the guards forward and stepped up to the glass himself to watch as the assassin rolled haphazardly into the room, his arms still pulled behind him.

By what had to be some nearly supernatural talent, the man was in a couch less than a second later, standing slowly with his eyes locked onto the massive green beast.

Ross watched, eyes bright and following the monster's every move as he gave a furious snarl and launched himself at Hawkeye, landing only a few feet in front of the assassin and growling down at him menacingly. He couldn't believe it when he saw that the younger man still didn't look concerned in the slightest, actually looking up to meet the beast's gaze and speaking.

'_Hey Big Guy.'_ Hawkeye said, his tone light and unwavering and holding none of the fear Ross was hoping for. The evidently stupid man didn't even try to move or find something to hide himself behind, not that there would be anything.

Ross allowed himself the dark chuckle he'd held back before as the green monster bared his teeth in another threatening snarl, waiting for the attack that would not only kill the meddling assassin, but break Banner's spirit as well. One look at Hawkeye's mangled body would destroy the doctor, he knew.

He felt his eyes narrow into confusion however when the beast paused, relaxed for itself, and grunted out a single questioning word.

'_Cupid.' _

Ross' smirk faltered and he swore he felt his eye twitch when Hawkeye gave a relieved grin and a nod.

Cupid.

_**Cupid. **_

The abomination that was the Hulk had given the assassin Hawkeye a nickname of Cupid. And what's more, it apparently wasn't anything new, with the way the younger man was nodding.

There wasn't any smashing. There wasn't any snarling or growling. Hell, there wasn't even another threatening _glance_ in Hawkeye's direction.

Ross physically felt his blood pressure begin to rise, and he was certain his face was reddening with barely contained anger. Even so, he forced himself to listen as the assassin spoke again, his tone as light and furiously grating as always.

'_Yeah, buddy. Looks like me and you in some deep shit, huh?'_

The former general allowed himself to hope again when the beast gave another threatening snarl and Hawkeye actually took a small step back.

'_Ross hurt Bruce. Hurt Hulk.'_ the beast snarled, and Ross felt himself grow somewhat lightheaded. The anger from the monster wasn't directed at Hawkeye. It was directed at _him_.

His denial almost caused him to miss the green beast next words.

'_Cupid hurt?'_

And now the beast was inquiring as to the assassin's _welfare_.

Ross swore he almost started choking, his eyes bugging out in his head as his fists clenched furiously at his sides. _How_ was this _possible_? How had the snarling, murdering, smashing monster that he had seen and dealt with before; the unreasonable beast; turned into what he was looking at now?

His racing thoughts made him miss Hawkeye's next words, though his eyes narrowed when the assassin turned slightly, putting his back to the Hulk. The smirk that Hawkeye sent almost directly at him carried an easily discernible message: _I told you so._

"You little god-damned bastard." Ross swore, finally finding his voice again, as the clearly shocked eyes of everyone else in the room turned to him as well.

His eyes narrowed to slits when Hawkeye tossed a relieved _'Thanks.' _over his shoulder at the beast and then slowly brought his now handcuff-free arms forward. Looking to the beast again, Ross felt his eye twitch again when he saw unmasked concern in the usually furious green eyes. Then the monster physically _sat down_ in front of the assassin and proceeded to point out that he was bleeding and asked if Banner would be of help to him.

Ross idly began to wonder if this was what the beginning of a heart attack felt like.

"This certainly doesn't look like a mindless rage-fueled monster, Mr. Ross." Simmons' voice beside him startled him and caused him to practically jump, his eyes widening.

"This shouldn't be possible." Ross hissed, anger and disbelief in his voice. "I don't…. The beast…."

He became aware that he was more or less shaking with rage, and couldn't find the ability to fully articulate sentences.

"There is clearly more to Banner's condition than we realized." Simmons cut across Ross' spluttering; waving the team of four guards that had seemingly accompanied him to the door. "It would seem that it has grown more accustomed to human presence."

Ross watched dumbly, having more or less deflated as the four men entered the room as well. The beast's eyes snapped to the newcomers before back to Hawkeye, who raised his hands, eyes narrowed as well.

Simmons growled, but Ross couldn't bring himself to react as the monster flung itself at the guards, slammed the door shut and then continued obliterating the four men.

"Or, maybe it's just the Hawk." the dark haired man corrected himself as a sigh, shaking his head as the Hulk sat against the door to effectively block anyone else from entering and gently pulled Hawkeye with him.

'_Ross no hurt Cupid.'_ the monster grunted, and Ross felt Simmons' eyes turned to him.

"It does seem that it has no fondness for you." the man who had hired him said matter of factly, but the former general couldn't bring himself to respond, the fury, despair and denial overwhelming him as he watched the assassin have a _conversation_ with the massive, green monster.

* * *

**There you are, the official end to Protective Reasoning. Once I get a decision, it shouldn't take long to get the new story up, so keep your eyes peeled. Until then, thank you all for your support for this story!  
~Dogstar**


End file.
